Go to the Spider

When you read as well what I write
And think to know my worth in its light
But in all your findings you still find none
Of my verses to name the beloved one,
Then count only on what I do not write.

You should learn to read your own thought,
Frown upon what others do,
And fool not yourself with the unruly lot.

There is no measure to which your skills could mount,
There is no mystery to what is known.
All that is counted little has the greater estate,
Which the greatest need to learn to master fate.

What I write to you is the secret of ancient minds,
Go to the spider: you can be great
through your cunning hands.