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— E.E. Cummings

It is said that if the dead who died in the Great

War were placed head to feet, they would stretch

from New York to San Francisco, and from San

Francisco back again to New York; and if those

…

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A Noiseless Patient Spider

11 lines
Walt Whitman·1819–1892
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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.
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