I've often seen them in the early morn
In countless numbers hung on every leaf,
Entwined among tall stalks of wheat and corn,
Or the drooping ears atop the standing sheaf

I think they come when south winds blow
And settle on the hedgerows from the sky.
I've never seen them either come or go
Or known from where they come, or whither go, or why.

Why come these little creature to this place?
In countless numbers, tiny as a grain of sand
Who taught them how to weave this glistening lace
To spin this web, secure each tiny strand?

They have no written plan to build aright
They do not even need the light of day
They build it all in one short summer night
And ere the evening comes again are gone away.