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.