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.
I’ve been watching one in a corner…addition to a line of lifetime spiders…I had a Charlotte in my study in Idyllwild, she (or her progeny) kept a gorgeous web in a corner where two windows met, for years. Often Charlotte was a source of comfort, reassurance. And so today, sickabed with a hacking cold, trying to wrap up The Novel, Mr. Whitman hands me good cheer. Thank you, sir. (P.S. This source is also from my husband, should you note the editors.)
Whitman, Walt. The College Anthology of British and American Poetry edited by A. Kent Hieatt and William Park, Allyn and Bacon, Inc., Boston, 1972, page 448.
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Get well soon. Let’s make a date! xox
Ah how wondrous you see wonder in the little creatures…usually so despised…
Much hoping you’ll feel better soon, wholly:)
You remind me of a time when I walked out of my front door to find a very large beautiful web across the front sidewalk. There was no easy way around it, so I went back in the house and exited by the back door. Created a place for mail delivery that didn’t require our lovely mailman to come to the door and left him a note. I had that web for days, getting repaired and patched over time. I would sit on my front porch just to watch it for awhile. And was very sad to find one morning that it was gone. Spiders are quite wonderful. Thanks for this–and for the gorgeous photo.