| 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. |
Commentary:
What a brilliant metaphor! The spider sheds light on how the mind works, always tirelessly seeking to connect things.
