by E.B. White

The spider, dropping down from twig,
Unfolds a plan of her devising,
A thin premeditated rig
To use in rising.

And all that journey down through space,
In cool descent and loyal hearted,
She spins a ladder to the place
From where she started.

Thus I, gone forth as spiders do
In spider’s web a truth discerning,
Attach one silken thread to you
For my returning.

I’m sure this will seem like another tennuous connection to our theme, but, well, it makes sense to me.  And it makes sense to Arachne.  So that’s sense enough for our purposes. 

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