Poetry Writings Artwork and stories from Neil Furby

Aug 26, 2009 at 13:23 o\clock

Upon a Spider Catching a Fly by Edward Taylor

Upon a Spider Catching a Fly
      by Edward Taylor

Thou sorrow, venom Elfe:
   Is this thy play,
To spin a web out of thyselfe
   To Catch a Fly?
       For Why?

I saw a pettish wasp
   Fall foule therein:
Whom yet thy Whorle pins did not clasp
   Lest he should fling
       His sting.

But as affraid, remote
   Didst stand hereat,
And with thy little fingers stroke
   And gently tap
       His back.

Thus gently him didst treate
   Lest he should pet,
And in a froppish, aspish heate
   Should greatly fret
       Thy net.

Whereas the silly Fly,
   Caught by its leg
Thou by the throate tookst hastily
   And ‘hinde the head
       Bite Dead.

This goes to pot, that not
   Nature doth call.
Strive not above what strength hath got,
   Lest in the brawle
       Thou fall.

This Frey seems thus to us.
   Hells Spider gets
His intrails spun to whip Cords thus
   And wove to nets
       And sets.

To tangle Adams race
   In’s stratigems
To their Destructions, spoil’d, made base
   By venom things,
       Damn’d Sins.

But mighty, Gracious Lord
Thy Grace to breake the Cord, afford
   Us Glorys Gate
       And State.

We’l Nightingaile sing like
   When pearcht on high
In Glories Cage, thy glory, bright,
   And thankfully,
       For joy.

Aug 4, 2009 at 20:14 o\clock

a grave poem

Lutheran spire rising on the hill:
The dead tucked into the earth like poems
Or any other unread things.