Letter Iii. From A Young Garden-spider To Her Mother. (the Bird And Insects' Post-office.) Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: A B C C

DEAR MOTHERA
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I cannot exactly tell what happened before I came out of the shell but from circumstances I can give you some information When I came to life amongst some scores of other little merry yellow creatures I found myself and all of us enclosed in a thing through which we with our eight eyes could see very well but could not instantly get out I soon perceived that we in the egg state wrapped in a white bag as you left us had been put into a thing called a bottle by one of those great creatures whom we always call striders but this was a particular one of that tribe who wanted to play tricks with us one whom they would perhaps call a philosopher Well his own sense if he had any told him that we could not live without air so he left the cork out and went about his business no doubt of much less consequence than the lives of all us prisoners but that they do not mind But how long were we prisoners Why as soon as ever we were out of the shell we began to spin and linked our webs so thick together that the philosopher's bottle would hold us no longer We climbed out in a crowd and spread our webs over the room up to the very ceiling I shall never forget how the great booby stared when he saw us all climbing up our own rope ladders I wonder if those great creatures are not sometimes caught in webs spun by their fellow creatures and whether they are not sometimes put by hundreds into a bottle without possessing any means of escape But I am but a child and must live and learn before I talk more freely Long life to you dear mother and plenty of fliesB
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Yours ever cC
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This part of the letter is very difficult of translation as the plain word in spiders' language means merely a deep one R BC

Robert Bloomfield



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About Letter Iii. From A Young Garden-spider To Her Mother. (the Bird And Insects' Post-office.)

Letter Iii. From A Young Garden-spider To Her Mother. (the Bird And Insects' Post-office.) is a poem by Robert Bloomfield. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.



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