The spider, dropping down from twig,

Unwinds a thread of his devising:

A thin, premeditated rig

To use in rising

And all the journey down through space,

In cool descent, and loyal-hearted,

He builds a ladder to the place

From which he started

This I, gone forth, as spiders do,

In spider’s web a truth discerning,

Attach one silken stand to you

For my returning

‘Natural History’ E.B. White