Walt Whitman (31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892 / New York / United States)
A Noiseless Patient Spider
A noiseless, patient spider,
I mark’d, where, on a little promontory, it stood, isolated;
Mark’d how, to explore the vacant, vast surrounding,
It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself;
Ever unreeling them—ever tirelessly speeding them.
And you, O my Soul, where you stand,
Surrounded, surrounded, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing,—seeking the spheres, to connect them;
Till the bridge you will need, be form’d—till the ductile anchor hold;
Till the gossamer thread you fling, catch somewhere, O my Soul.
Read poems about / on: ocean
Walt Whitman's Other Poems
- A Boston Ballad, 1854
- A child said, What is the grass?
- A Child's Amaze
- A Clear Midnight
- A Farm-Picture
- A Glimpse
- A Hand-Mirror
- A Leaf For Hand In Hand
- A March In The Ranks, Hard-prest
- A Noiseless Patient Spider
- A Paumanok Picture
- A Proadway Pageant
- A Promise To California
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