Spider, Spider

In her tower
Sits the woman
Who is haunted.
Strangely dimly
Burns the light there.
She must shield it
With her body
From the night wind
Off the moor.

It is high there
In the tower;
And the woman
Has ceased spinning.
She is listening
To the footfalls
On a stairway
Never there.

When the wind blows
It is lonely,
It is lonesome,
It is lonely;
When the wind lulls
It is lonely;
And the dead live
On the moor.

In the silence
Of the night time,
Through the darkness,
Come the wolf-howls
From the forest,
And the lost birds
Crying strangely,
And the witches
Riding dragons
To the sea.

In the tower,
Squats a spider.
In a corner,
Like a black pot
How it dangles!
How it dangles!
Like a fat pot
On iron angles,
Hairy-lipped,
A crab from hades,
Full of glee.
Is it sleeping?
Is it sleeping?
Stealthily,
It is creeping
One, two, three-four —
One, two, three-four —
One-two-three.
When the light fails,
In the darkness
It can see.

Light is failing.
It is failing.
It is out!
Shriek-shriek-shriek.
What is wailing?
Pretty baby,
Pretty baby,
At her heart,
Spider baby
At her breast there