I came across this poem in my Reading Poetry class and immediately was drawn to its philosophical message. Throughout the semester finding true meaning has been a constant concern for philosophers. Obviously, “true meaning” is a rather broad topic: by true I mean right, correct, or good and by meaning I mean of everything. In the works of the philosophers that we’ve read God is a popular theme… though I find it interesting that no one has been attempting to validate the Devil. In Robert Frost’s poem “Design” he attempts to debunk the idea of an intelligent being by using a death ridden, tiny moment to point out the unintelligence and horror of death; a moment that could not be orchestrated by an intelligent being.
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 being 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.
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