Читать книгу Graded Memory Selections - Various - Страница 20

The spider wears a plain brown dress,

And she is a steady spinner;

To see her, quiet as a mouse,

Going about her silver house,

You would never, never, never guess

The way she gets her dinner.

She looks as if no thought of ill

In all her life had stirred her;

But while she moves with careful tread,

And while she spins her silken thread,

She is planning, planning, planning still

The way to do some murder.

My child, who reads this simple lay,

With eyes down-dropt and tender,

Remember the old proverb says

That pretty is which pretty does,

And that worth does not go nor stay

For poverty nor splendor.

’Tis not the house, and not the dress,

That makes the saint or sinner.

To see the spider sit and spin,

Shut with her walls of silver in,

You would never, never, never guess

The way she gets her dinner.