And so she weaves in perfect line,
Silken spittle tracing out a net
So delicate and yet
In this perfection
Here lies d**h.
And so she labours on and on,
Wavering a second here and there
To make some small repair
As countless years have led
Her to.
And so she will, continuing
Her life's endeavours beauty bound to d**h,
That she might take her breath
'Til nature takes
The net away.