DESIGN

by Robert Frost

I found a dimpled spider, fat and white,
On a white heal-all, holding up a moth
Like a white piece of rigid satin cloth–
Assorted characters of death and blight
Mixed ready to begin the morning right,
Like the ingredients of a witches’ broth–
A snow-drop spider, a flower like a froth,
And dead wings carried like a paper kite.

What had that flower to do with being white,
The wayside blue and innocent heal-all?
What brought the kindred spider to that height,
Then steered the white moth thither in the night?
What but design of darkness to appall?–
If design govern in a thing so small.

Thank you to Fred Johnson for sharing this poem and the following thoughts:

We find ourselves thinking of the Howard family as we vacation in Jasper, Banff, and Kootenay. At the service held for the El Carmelo community, the Rev. Janet Wheelock told us that God had not willed the terrible accident. That assertion got me to thinking about a poem by Robert Frost called Design, about whether the quirkiness of nature is indeed guided by design (I think not). The last couplet frames it all: “What but design of darkness to appall/ If design govern in a thing so small.”

We are so sorry for your loss. It’s been a loss for all of us.