Cobweb

It joins a dark pine to another tree; And shining through its bones a ray of sun Unearthed it like some graceful skeleton, Or an unfinished frame of faery As frail as words. Not even thought could be More carefully, more delicately spun — As fine a thread as that invisible one Of speech and silence between you and me.

The spider lurks there blotched and poisonous. He is the monstrous god who can at will Belch beauty from a stomachful of spit; And dreaming of that silver binding us, Which Love unwinds and weaves, my heart grows still And cries that Love is lovely — isn't it ?