Walt Whitman (Уолт Уитмен)

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. 28. Old Salt Kossabone
2. Leaves of Grass. 24. Autumn Rivulets. 23. To a Pupil
3. Leaves of Grass. 35. Good-Bye My Fancy. 18. Sounds of the Winter
4. Leaves of Grass. 35. Good-Bye My Fancy. 14. Interpolation Sounds
5. Leaves of Grass. 20. By the Roadside. 28. Offerings

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