The little spider

The little spider must still be spinning;
At birth the spider's fate is set:
Round, round, she spins as the light is thinning.

Now a gap-toothed child is eagerly grinning,
The delicate web his small hand can get;
The little spider must still be spinning.

A nose and whiskers ask: what is this thing?
With a sniffle, and a sneeze, the web’s end is met.
Round, round, she spins as the light is thinning.

Up in the sky is thunder rumbling –
An acorn falls: farewell to the spider’s net.
The little spider must still be spinning.

The wind of wings and musical squawking
Take the web away, but the spider does not fret.
Round, round, she spins as the light is thinning.

At last, the web’s finished beauty is blinding,
Yet the spider never stops, for her fate is set.
The little spider must still be spinning.

Round, round, she spins as the light is thinning.