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1849–1916

A DREAM

James Whitcomb Riley

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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A DREAM · James Whitcomb Riley · Poetry Cove