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Walt Whitman - A Noiseless Patient Spider
Work rating: Medium

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.
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