Classic Poem

AN APOLOGUE .

" Will you walk into my parlor? " said the Spider to the Fly,
" 'Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy;
The way into my parlor is up a winding stair,
And I've many curious things to show when you are there. "
" Oh no, no, " said the little Fly, " to ask me is in vain,
For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again. "

" I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high;
Will you rest upon my little bed? " said the Spider to the Fly.
" There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin,
And if you like to rest awhile, I'll snugly tuck you in! "
" Oh no, no, " said the little Fly, " for I've often heard it said,
They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed! "

Said the cunning Spider to the Fly, " Dear friend, what can I do,
To prove the warm affection I've always felt for you?
I have within my pantry good store of all that's nice;
I'm sure you're very welcome — will you please to take a slice? "
" Oh no, no, " said the little Fly, " kind sir, that cannot be,
I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see! "

" Sweet creature! " said the Spider, " you're witty and you're wise,
How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your eyes!
I've a little looking-glass upon my parlor shelf,
If you'll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself. "
" I thank you, gentle sir, " she said, " for what you're pleased to say,
And bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day. "

The Spider turned him round about, and went into his den,
For well he knew the silly Fly would soon come back again:
So he wove a subtle web, in a little corner sly,
And set his table ready, to dine upon the Fly.
Then he came out to his door again, and merrily did sing,
" Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, with the pearl and silver wing;
Your robes are green and purple — there's a crest upon your head;
Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead! "
Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little Fly,
Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by;
With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew,
Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue —
Thinking only of her crested head — poor foolish thing! At last,
Up jumped the cunning Spider, and fiercely held her fast,
He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den,
Within his little parlor — but she ne'er came out again!

And now, dear little chilldren, who may this story read,
To idle, silly, flattering words, I pray you ne'er give heed;
Unto an evil counsellor, close heart, and ear, and eye,
And take a lesson from this tale, of the Spider and the Fly.