I felt fragile, weak, and small,
Beside the mighty waterfall.
But I saw, upon the safety rail,
A creature that was still more frail.
She spun her many-circled net,
Beside the cataract, and yet,
Feared not the water, as did I,
And looked not past her juicy fly.
Did she know the water green,
Which thundered past her, sight unseen,
Is no more mighty in God's eye,
Than the beauty of her mist-jeweled line?