Walt Whitman
A Noiseless Patient Spider (1868)

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A noiseless patient spider,

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I mark’d where on a little promontory it stood isolated,

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Mark’d how to explore the vacant vast surrounding,

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It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself,

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Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.

 

 

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And you O my soul where you stand,

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Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,

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Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them,

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Till the bridge you will need be form’d, till the ductile anchor hold,

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Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.