A Noiseless Patient Spider
By Walt Whitman

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, detached, 
	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.