an august midnight in september

A couple nights ago I observed a minute spider traversing a web from the lamp upon my desk to another point near the desk's edge.  The spider was so tiny, a characteristic I note with interest because I also recently saw a very large, fast spider dance across the floor and underneath the desk.  Big and little, and both very spidery.

Watching the little spider maneuvering along it's delicate path reminded me of a poem by Thomas Hardy I very much enjoy.  Here it is:

An August Midnight

I

A shaded lamp and a waving blind,
And the beat of a clock from a distant floor:
On this scene enter—winged, horned, and spined—
A longlegs, a moth, and a dumbledore;
While ‘mid my page there idly stands
A sleepy fly, that rubs its hands...

II

Thus meet we five, in this still place,
At this point of time, at this point in space.
—My guests besmear my new-penned line,
Or bang at the lamp and fall supine.
“God’s humblest, they!” I muse. Yet why?
They know Earth-secrets that know not I.