“Will you walk into my parlor?”
Said the spider to the fly.”
‘This the prettiest little parlor
That you ever spy.
“The way into my parlor
Is up at a winding stair
And I have many curious things
To show when you are there.”
“Oh, no, no!” said the fly
“To ask me is in vain;
For who goes up your winding stair.
Can never come down again .”
“Sweet creature,” said the spider.
“You’re witty and you’re wise;
How handsome are your gauzy wings;
How brilliant are your eyes!”
“I have a little looking glass
Upon my parlor shelf;
If you’ll step in one moment, dear,
You shall behold yourself”
“I thank you, gentle, sir,” she said,
“For what you’re pleased to say,
And bidding you good morning now,
I’ll call another day.”
The spider turned round about,
And went into his den
For well he knew the silly fly
Would soon be back again.
So he wove a subtle thread
In a little concern sly
And set his table ready
To dine upon the fly.
He went upon to his door again
And mercily did sing
“Come hither, hither pretty fly,
With the pearl and silver wings.
Your robes are green and purple
There’s a crest upon your head
Your eyes are like the diamond bright
But mine as dull as lead.”
Alas! Alas! How very soon
This silly little fly
Hearing his wily, flattering words
Came slowly flitting by.
With buzzing wings he hung aloft
Then near and nearer drew –
Thinking only of her brilliant eyes
And the green and purple hue.
Thinking only of her crested head –
Poor foolish thing! At last
Up jumped the cunning spider
And fiercely held her fast.
He dragged her up his winding stair.
Into his dismal den
Within his little parlor –
And the fly never came out again!
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