Where The Spider Weaves

In an Old Barn

Tons upon tons the brown-green fragrant hay
O’erbrims the mows beyond the time-warped eaves,
Up to the rafters where the spider weaves,
Though few flies wander his secluded way.
Through a high chink one lonely golden ray,
Wherein the dust is dancing, slants unstirred.
In the dry hush some rustlings light are heard,
Of winter-hidden mice at furtive play.
Far down, the cattle in their shadowed stalls,
Nose-deep in clover fodder’s meadowy scent,
Forget the snows that whelm their pasture streams,
The frost that bites the world beyond their walls.
Warm housed, they dream of summer, well content
In day-long contemplation of their dreams.
– Charles G. D. Roberts

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14 thoughts on “Where The Spider Weaves

  1. Old barns hold so many memories for me. I spent much time in them when stripping tobacco as a boy.

    Roberts captured their essence very well.

  2. I love old barns like these. I’m glad you have preserved it in a photo–who knows how much longer it will be allowed to stand. To me it’s a remind of a simpler time.

  3. Nancy, I love this poem, it’s so evocative. That and the photo remind me of the poetry book my father is putting together, about growing up on a farm in western Pennsylvania. He talks about going into the barn to milk on a winter morning, and how it’s suddenly warm from the cows.

    It also reminds me of things I myself have seen and appreciated.

  4. Nancy, That’s a barn that has a lot to say. It’s wonderfully rustic, but it’s also sad to think that it may not last much longer… as it needs a great deal of TLC. The poem was perfectly matched. I thought perhaps you’d written it, until I got to the end. :-)

  5. I can just imagine that spider way up in the rafters looking down at the beast, looking out at the cold, and seeing the mice scurry by. I love the view of the barn from the spider’s web.

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