A noiseless, patient spider, <br />I mark’d, where, on a little promontory, it stood, isolated; <br />Mark’d how, to explore the vacant, vast surrounding, <br />It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself; <br />Ever unreeling them—ever tirelessly speeding them. <br /> <br />And you, O my Soul, where you stand, <br />Surrounded, surrounded, in measureless oceans of space, <br />Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing,—seeking the spheres, to connect them; <br />Till the bridge you will need, be form’d—till the ductile anchor hold; <br />Till the gossamer thread you fling, catch somewhere, O my Soul.<br /><br />Walt Whitman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-noiseless-patient-spider/
