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Leaves of Grass (1891-92)
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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,
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Till the bridge you will need be form'd, till the ductile anchor
hold,
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Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul. |
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