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James Whitcomb Riley - A Dream
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I dreamed I was a spider;
A big, fat, hungry spider;
A lusty, rusty spider
    With a dozen palsied limbs;
With a dozen limbs that dangled
Where three wretched flies were tangled
And their buzzing wings were strangled
    In the middle of their hymns.

And I mocked them like a demon--
A demoniacal demon
Who delights to be a demon
    For the sake of sin alone;
And with fondly false embraces
Did I weave my mystic laces
Round their horror-stricken faces
    Till I muffled every groan.

And I smiled to see them weeping,
For to see an insect weeping,
Sadly, sorrowfully weeping,
    Fattens every spider`s mirth;
And to note a fly`s heart quaking,
And with anguish ever aching
Till you see it slowly breaking
    Is the sweetest thing on earth.

I experienced a pleasure,
Such a highly-flavored pleasure,
Such intoxicating pleasure,
    That I drank of it like wine;
And my mortal soul engages
That no spider on the pages
Of the history of ages
    Felt a rapture more divine.

I careened around and capered--
Madly, mystically capered--
For three days and nights I capered
    Round my web in wild delight;
Till with fierce ambition burning,
And an inward thirst and yearning
I hastened my returning
    With a fiendish appetite.

And I found my victims dying,
"Ha!" they whispered, "we are dying!"
Faintly whispered, "we are dying,
    And our earthly course is run."
And the scene was so impressing
That I breathed a special blessing,
As I killed them with caressing
    And devoured them one by one.
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