Poem by Walt Whitman

Leaves of Grass. 30. Whispers of Heavenly Death. 11. A Noiseless Patient Spider

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.

1. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 14. Memories
2. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 15. To-Day and Thee
3. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 33. “Going Somewhere”
4. Leaves of Grass. 20. By the Roadside. 28. Offerings
5. Leaves of Grass. 30. Whispers of Heavenly Death. 5. Yet, Yet, Ye Downcast Hours

Print

1338 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version