DESIGN
Robert Frost
I
found a dimpled spider, fat and white,
On
a white heal-all, holding up a moth
Like
a white piece of rigid satin cloth-
Assorted
characters of death and blight
Mixed
ready to begin the morning right,
Like
ingredients of a witches’ broth-
A
snow-drop spider, a flower like a froth,
And
dead wings carried like a paper kite.
What
had that flower to do with being white,
The
wayside blue and innocent heal-all?
What
bright the kindred spider to that height,
Then
steered the white moth thither in the night?
What
but design of darkness to appal?-
Other poems by Robert Frost By J.Coghlan 2000