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The Web


My hand by chance
brushed and tore
a spider's web;


The spider dangled,
aerialist hanging
by a thread,


Then fled the ruin,
fit snare for nothing
now but my


Embittered thoughts
of a web
more intricate,


More fragile-and
the stronger for
its fragileness.


Its iron gossamer
withstands the blows
that would destroy.


Caught in that filmy
trap, who shall
contrive escape?

Written by Robert Hayden (1913-1980)

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