The_Dragon_Tamer
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Apr 7, 2003
- Posts
- 1,803
When I was in college, eons ago, one of my degrees was in English. I had an English professor who taught an American Literature Class. In this class the following poem was read and asked to be explained. My father went to college late in life and had this professor, as did my oldest brother and my self. The professor did not like any of us. Being the smartass I was then, after the professor gave his interpretation he asked about others. When I offerred what I thought it meant the professor just laughed and said it is poetry and you can read almost anything into it at times. I told him that Dr. Heminway (not Ernest) spoke to Mr. Frost about this very poem when he had lectured at the college and what I just said is what Mr. Frost told Dr. Hemminway. Never got more than a C in that class. I wonder why.
This poem has been greatly debated. My challenge to you is to tell me what the Poet Robert Frost was referring to in the poem below.
Design
by Robert Frost
I found a dimpled spider, fat and white,
On a white heal-all, holding up a moth
Like a white piece of rigid satin cloth--
Assorted characters of death and blight
Mixed ready to begin the morning right,
Like the ingredients of a witches' broth--
A snow-drop spider, a flower like a froth,
And dead wings carried like a paper kite.
What had that flower to do with being white,
The wayside blue and innocent heal-all?
What brought the kindred spider to that height,
Then steered the white moth thither in the night?
What but design of darkness to appall?--
If design govern in a thing so small.
This poem has been greatly debated. My challenge to you is to tell me what the Poet Robert Frost was referring to in the poem below.
Design
by Robert Frost
I found a dimpled spider, fat and white,
On a white heal-all, holding up a moth
Like a white piece of rigid satin cloth--
Assorted characters of death and blight
Mixed ready to begin the morning right,
Like the ingredients of a witches' broth--
A snow-drop spider, a flower like a froth,
And dead wings carried like a paper kite.
What had that flower to do with being white,
The wayside blue and innocent heal-all?
What brought the kindred spider to that height,
Then steered the white moth thither in the night?
What but design of darkness to appall?--
If design govern in a thing so small.
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