Range-Finding

by Robert Frost

　　

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The battle rent a cobweb diamond-strungAnd cut a flower beside a ground bird’s nestBefore it stained a single human breast.The stricken flower bent double and so hung.And still the bird revisited her young.A butterfly its fall had dispossessedA moment sought in air his flower of rest,Then lightly stooped to it and fluttering clung. On the bare upland pasture there had spreadO’ernight ’twixt mullein stalks a wheel of threadAnd straining cables wet with silver dew.A sudden passing bullet shook it dry.The indwelling spider ran to greet the fly,But finding nothing, sullenly withdrew.

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