A Noiseless Patient Spider
Walt Whitman
1819 to 1892
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A noiseless patient spider,
I mark’d where on a promontory it stood isolated,
Mark’d how to explore the vast surrounding,
It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out itself,
Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.
And O my soul where you stand,
Surrounded, detached, in oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the to connect them,
Till the bridge you will need form’d, till the ductile anchor hold,
Till the gossamer you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.