All your favorite poems about our friend, the Spider.

This has always been one of my favorite poems.

THE SPIDER AND THE FLY

'Will you walk into my parlour?' said the Spider to the Fly,
'Tis the prettiest parlour that ever did you spy;
The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,
And I have many curious things to show when you are there.'
'Oh no, no,' said the little Fly, ‘to ask me is in vain,
For who goes up your winding stair can ne’er come down again.'

'I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high;
Will you rest upon my little bed?' said the Spider to the Fly.
'There are pretty curtains drawn around, the sheets are fine and thin;
And if you like to rest awhile, I'll snugly tuck you in!'
'Oh no, no,' said the little Fly, ‘for I’ve often heard it said,
They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!'

Said the cunning Spider to the Fly, ‘Dear friend, what can I do,
To prove the warm affection I’ve always felt for you?
I have within my pantry good store of all that's nice;
I'm sure you're very welcome–will you please to take a slice?'
'Oh no, no,' said the little Fly, ‘kind sir, that cannot be,
I’ve heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see.'

'Sweet creature,' said the Spider, ‘you’re witty and you're wise;
How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your eyes!
I have a little looking-glass upon my parlour shelf,
If you'll step in a moment, dear, you shall behold yourself.'
'I thank you, gentle sir,' she said, ‘for what you’re pleased to say,
And bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day.'

The Spider turned him round about, and went into his den,
For well he knew the silly Fly would soon come back again;
So he wove a subtle web, in a little corner sly,
And set his table ready, to dine upon the Fly.
Then he came out to his door again, and merrily did sing:
'Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, with the pearl and silver wing;
Your robes are green and purple–there's a crest upon your head;
Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead.'

Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little Fly,
Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by;
With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew,
Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue;
Thinking only of her crested head–poor foolish thing! At last,
Up jumped the cunning Spider, and fiercely held her fast.
He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den,
Within his little parlour–but she ne'er came out again!

And now, dear little children who may this story read,
To idle, silly, flattering words, I pray you ne'er give heed:
Unto an evil counselor close heart, and ear, and eye,
And take a lesson from this tale of the Spider and the Fly.

by Mary Howitt, (1799-1888), published in 1829.

LITTLE MISS MUFFET

Little Miss Muffet,
Sat on her tuffet,
Eating her curds and whey,
Along came a spider
And sat down beside her,
And frightened Miss Muffet away.

Little Miss Muffet, first appeared in print in 1805, in a book titled Songs for the Nursery.

SPIDER'S WEB (NATURAL HISTORY)

The spider, dropping down from twig,
Unfolds a plan of her devising,
A thin premeditated rig
To use in rising.

And all that journey down through space,
In cool descent and loyal hearted,
She spins a ladder to the place
From where she started.

Thus I, gone forth as spiders do
In spider's web a truth discerning,
Attach one silken thread to you
For my returning.

– E. B. White (1899-1985) The poem Spider's Web (Natural History) was written by E. B. White and published anonymously in 1929. It was written as a love letter to his wife.