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.
Spiders with its infinite patience have always been a source of inspiration.. The little arthropod conquers its surrounding., and makes a space for itself.. and our soul always surrounded yet so marooned, also tries to find a space for itself!
I am surprised that Kevin Straw's stupid comment is still there after two years. You would think he wouldbe embarrassed enough to remove itby now.
I'm beginning to think Mr Straw doesn't like any poetry from the past. Mind you his own poetrys not much to write home about in my opinion. Of course those who can do and in this case can't criticise. Nowhere in the poem does Whitman say a spider has thought or conscious actions so I'm not sure where he got that from.
I bought a volume two of his leaves of grass hard bounded, at a garage sale complete with the hard case. It is truly a wonderful book. I bought it not knowing who he was, and was introduced to the world of poetry. To be uninfluenced by todays society, technology, and world events, to be able to write poetry such ad this. Our world ad we know it is so small compared to theirs back then. To be unifluenced by today.
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. beautiful poem great 10+++++++++++++++++
Minute observation of the poet regarding the silent and consistent efforts of a spider to form it's net and it's comparison with his soul's unending attempts to discover it's connects have made the poem a spirituality based and has given it deep meaning.
And you, O my Soul, where you stand, Surrounded, surrounded, in measureless oceans of space, Ceaselessly musing, venturing, great poem
spider! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
To the rude Olivarez who does not have the manners (or I suspect the intelligence) to define why my comment is stupid: Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, —seeking the spheres, to connect them... Man connects himself to the universe consciously, the spider does it unconsciously - there is no comparison. It is OK to be a fan of a poet, but not to the extent that you will not hear an ything against him or her.