Oh, the Tangled Web… Kennedy Park, Lenox, Mass. Labor Day 2010 (c)jcs
Walt Whitman (1819–1892). Leaves of Grass. 1900.
208. 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. |
