�OH look at that great ugly spider!� said Ann; And screaming, she brush�d it away with her fan; �Tis a frightful black creature as ever can be, I wish that it would not come crawling on me.�
�Indeed,� said her mother, �I�ll venture to say, The poor thing will try to keep out of your way; For after the fright, and the fall, and the pain, It has much more occasion than you to complain.
�But why should you dread the poor insect, my dear? If it hurt you, there�d be some excuse for your fear; But its little black legs, as it hurried away, Did but tickle your arm, as they went, I dare say.
�For them to fear us we us grant to be just, Who in less than a moment can tread them to dust; But certainly we have no cause for alarm; For, were they to try, they could do us no harm.
�Now look! It has got to its home; do you see What a delicate web it has spun in the tree? Why here, my dear Ann, is a lesson for you: Come learn from this spider what patience can do!
�And when at your business you�re tempted to play, Recollect what you see in this insect to-day, Or else, to your shame, it may seem to be true, That a poor little spider is wiser than you.�
