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.