In Leaves of Grass (1855, 1891-2), he celebrated democracy, nature, love, and friendship. 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. Vocabulary 1. ductile 2. gossamer 3. inherent. This is a short, fun poem from the middle of Walt Whitman’s career. A Noiseless Patient Spider By Walt Whitman About this Poet Walt Whitman is America’s world poet—a latter-day successor to Homer, Virgil, Dante, and Shakespeare. A Noiseless Patient Spider Introduction. Whitman originally wrote the poem as part of a longer piece, "Whispers of Heavenly Death," for The Broadway, A London Magazine in 1868. "A Noiseless Patient Spider" is a lyric poem written by the 19th Century American poet Walt Whitman. Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them. Till the bridge you will need be form'd, till the ductile anchor hold. And you O my soul where you stand, Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space, I mark'd where on a little promontory it stood isolated. 1Something startles me where I thought I was safest,I withdraw from the still woods I loved,I will not go now on the pastures to walk,I will not strip the clothes from my body to meet my lover the sea,I will not touch my flesh to the earth as to other flesh to renew me.O how can it be that the ground itself does not sicken?How can you be alive you growths of spring?How can you furnish health you blood of herbs, roots, orchards, grain?Are they not continually putting distemper'd corpses within you?Is not every continent work'd over and over with sour dead?Where have you disposed of their carcasses?Those drunkards and gluttons of so many generations?Where have you drawn off all the foul liquid and meat?I do not see any of it upon you to-day, or perhaps I am deceiv'd,I will run a furrow with my plough, I will press my spade through the sod and turn it up underneath,I am sure I shall expose some of the foul meat.2Behold this compost! Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them. 1.OF the visages of things—And of piercing through to the accepted hells beneath;Of ugliness—To me there is just as much in it as there is in beauty—And now the ugliness of human beings is acceptable to me;Of detected persons—To me, detected persons are not, in any respect, worse than undetected per- sons—and are not in any respect worse than I am myself;Of criminals—To me, any judge, or any juror, is equally criminal—and any reputable person is also—and the President is also.2.OF waters, forests, hills;Of the earth at large, whispering through medium of me;Of vista—Suppose some sight in arriere, through the formative chaos, presuming the growth, fulness, life, now attain'd on the journey;(But I see the road continued, and the journey ever continued;)Of what was once lacking on earth, and in due time has become supplied—And of what will yet be supplied,Because all I see and know, I believe to have purport in what will yet be supplied.3.OF persons arrived at high positions, ceremonies, wealth, scholarships, and the like;To me, all that those persons have arrived at, sinks away from them, except as it results to their Bodies and Souls,So that often to me they appear gaunt and naked;And often, to me, each one mocks the others, and mocks himself or herself,And of each one, the core of life, namely happiness, is full of the rotten excrement of maggots,And often, to me, those men and women pass unwit- tingly the true realities of life, and go toward false realities,And often, to me, they are alive after what custom has served them, but nothing more,And often, to me, they are sad, hasty, unwaked son- nambules, walking the dusk.4.OF ownership—As if one fit to own things could not at pleasure enter upon all, and incorporate them into himself or herself;Of Equality—As if it harm'd me, giving others the same chances and rights as myself—As if it were not indispensable to my own rights that others possess the same;Of Justice—As if Justice could be anything but the same ample law, expounded by natural judges and saviors,As if it might be this thing or that thing, according to decisions.5.As I sit with others, at a great feast, suddenly, while the music is playing,To my mind, (whence it comes I know not,) spectral, in mist, of a wreck at sea,Of the flower of the marine science of fifty generations, founder'd off the Northeast coast, and going down—Of the steamship Arctic going down,Of the veil'd tableau—Women gather'd together on deck, pale, heroic, waiting the moment that draws so close—O the moment!O the huge sob—A few bubbles—the white foam spirting up—And then the women gone,Sinking there, while the passionless wet flows on— And I now pondering, Are those women indeed gone?Are Souls drown'd and destroy'd so?Is only matter triumphant?6.OF what I write from myself—As if that were not the resumé;Of Histories—As if such, however complete, were not less complete than my poems;As if the shreds, the records of nations, could possibly be as lasting as my poems;As if here were not the amount of all nations, and of all the lives of heroes.7.OF obedience, faith, adhesiveness;As I stand aloof and look, there is to me something profoundly affecting in large masses of men, following the lead of those who do not believe in men. Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul. Literary Terms 1. vehicle - figurative language used in a metaphor 2. tenor - general meaning of something; the thing being compared to in the vehicle. behold it well!Perhaps every mite has once form'd part of a sick person—yet behold!The grass of spring covers the prairies,The bean bursts noiselessly through the mould in the garden,The delicate spear of the onion pierces upward,The apple-buds cluster together on the apple-branches,The resurrection of the wheat appears with pale visage out of its graves,The tinge awakes over the willow-tree and the mulberry-tree,The he-birds carol mornings and evenings while the she-birds sit on their nests,The young of poultry break through the hatch'd eggs,The new-born of animals appear, the calf is dropt from the cow, the colt from the mare,Out of its little hill faithfully rise the potato's dark green leaves,Out of its hill rises the yellow maize-stalk, the lilacs bloom in the dooryards,The summer growth is innocent and disdainful above all those strata of sour dead.What chemistry!That the winds are really not infectious,That this is no cheat, this transparent green-wash of the sea which is so amorous after me,That it is safe to allow it to lick my naked body all over with its tongues,That it will not endanger me with the fevers that have deposited themselves in it,That all is clean forever and forever,That the cool drink from the well tastes so good,That blackberries are so flavorous and juicy,That the fruits of the apple-orchard and the orange-orchard, that melons, grapes, peaches, plums, will none of them poison me,That when I recline on the grass I do not catch any disease,Though probably every spear of grass rises out of what was once a catching disease.Now I am terrified at the Earth, it is that calm and patient,It grows such sweet things out of such corruptions,It turns harmless and stainless on its axis, with such endless successions of diseas'd corpses,It distills such exquisite winds out of such infused fetor,It renews with such unwitting looks its prodigal, annual, sumptuous crops,It gives such divine materials to men, and accepts such leavings from them at last. Born on May 31, 1819, Walt Whitman is the author of Leaves of Grass and, along with Emily Dickinson, is considered one of the architects of a uniquely American poetic voice. A Noiseless Patient Spider by Walt Whitman Further Analysis A strong theme behind this poem is giving a corporeal metaphor to represent an abstract idea.
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