A Noiseless Patient Spider BY WALT WHITMAN

A Noiseless Patient Spider

                                                           BY WALT WHITMAN

"A Noiseless Patient Spider" is a short poem by Walt Whitman, published in an 1891 edition of Leaves of Grass. It was originally part of his poem "Whispers of Heavenly Death", written expressly for The Broadway, A London Magazine, issue 10 (October 1868), numbered as stanza "3". It was retitled "A Noiseless Patient Spider" and reprinted as part of a larger cluster in Passage to India (1871).

  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.

I

Line 1

A noiseless patient spider,

    Here at the beginning we meet the "main character" of this poem. The first line is exactly the title, when we read through the poem, the first line is essentially repeated. This has a really important effect. This the simplest ways to emphasize something is just to say it twice. As we finish this first line, the image of a spider is firmly built in our mind. Apart from this, there are particular things about this spider that poet wants us to know. Pay attention at these two words: "noiseless" and "patient." Noiseless is easy, since it pretty well describes most spiders. In fact, if you meet a spider big enough to make noise, you need to back away very slowly and then… run! There might be one more thing to notice about this. A spider must make some noise; it’s just too quiet for us to hear, right? This only matters because it starts to give us an idea of who is seeing this spider. By the word "patient" we can tell that something much bigger is looking at this creature. When we say this about a person, we mean that they are calm, willing to wait, etc. Now, we can guarantee you that no one who has ever lived knows how a spider "feels." This spider might be noiseless and cranky, or bored, or feel nothing at all. When a poet gives an animal a human characteristic like that, it’s called personification, and it says a lot about how he wants us to see this spider. Already, just a line into this poem, and, mostly thanks to these two words, we have a lot of information. We have a clue about who is looking at this spider, and how they want us to feel about it.

Line 2

I mark'd where on a little promontory it stood isolated,

   In this line, "I mark’d" is just an old-fashioned way of saying "I saw" or "I noticed." A 'promontory' means a piece of ground that sticks out, like a little cliff or a ledge. The use of pronoun "I" . That’s the speaker of the poem, quietly introducing himself. He could have stayed behind the scenes, and we would have assumed that someone was watching and describing the events, but, instead, he chooses to peek out. So, now, we have all the basic physical elements of the poem. There are two characters (the watcher and the one being watched), as well as a description of the setting. We also get a better sense of the poem’s mood in this line. The word "isolated" is an interesting choice. It’s definitely a little stronger than some of the other words Whitman could have used, like "by itself" or "alone." He even could have left the word out entirely, and the line would still make sense. With the word "isolated" there, we start to think about loneliness, separation, being an outcast, and all that depressing stuff. With just a few words, we turn this spider into a tragic hero. we definitely know this isn’t "just a spider."

Line 3-5

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.

    Whitman keeps up observing the spider here. Basically, over these three lines, he describes how the spider lays down the initial bridge which will become the foundation for its web. This takes a lot of trying, and the spider keeps shooting out webs into empty space. It’s using them to explore the area, and hopefully to attach them onto something solid so that it can start to build its web. Now, we’re not scientists, and neither was Walt. But, apparently, he was a good observer, because this really is how some spiders build their webs. (For more on that, check out the "Videos" section, and look at the animation in the link called "Spider Web Video"). In addition to telling us how this works, Whitman really wants us to focus on what a lonely job web-building is. In line 3, he describes the space around as "vacant vast." These words, with their repeated "v" sounds (what English teachers call "alliteration"), emphasize the same thing as "isolated" in line 2. Whitman tries to give us an intense experience of how alone this spider is, and to encourage us to sympathize with it. This work isn’t just lonely, it’s repetitive. The little spider basically fishes in the air. He must try again and again to start his web, and he’s never sure when one of his strings will hit. To point this out, Whitman makes his poem repetitive, too. In line 4, he writes the word "filament" (which just means "string") three times, to imitate the way the spider has to do this again and again.

That’s the same feeling we get in line 5. The spider is "ever unreeling" the strings, "ever tirelessly speeding them" (speeding just means "shooting them out"). The repetition is key. In these three lines, Whitman wants us to learn what the spider is doing. But, he also really wants us to feel what this lonely, repetitive work is like. This is also a really beautiful chunk of the poem. Read that filament line a few times out loud. Trust us; it’s fun.

II

Line 6

And you O my soul where you stand,

This is a big shift. In this new paragraph, Whitman begins to compare his own soul to this image of the spider. In the rest of the poem, he’s basically completing the other half of a big metaphor.

In fact, he won’t even mention that spider again, but he definitely relies on the visual and emotional picture he gives us in the first five lines. When he introduces his soul (maybe we can think of this as the third character in the poem), he moves from a tiny example in nature to a big, abstract, spiritual point. This is Whitman’s style. He loves to switch from big to small and back again. It’s a way of showing us how he believes that the different parts of the world are related, even if they are really far apart, or look very different. Also, since he set up the picture of the spider, the image helps us to visualize a thing that we’ve never seen, like a soul. He talks about where his soul "stands." If this were the first line of the poem, it wouldn’t mean much. How can a soul "stand" anyway? But, since we can compare it to the spider, it seems less weird. We can sort of see his soul standing on a "little promontory," like where the spider "stood" in line 2. Oh, and as a bonus, take a look at that part where he says, "O my soul." When a writer talks straight to an abstract idea like that, it’s called an "apostrophe." Yeah, just like the punctuation mark. Don’t ask us why they couldn’t come up with another word.

Line 7

Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,

Here, he’s trying to give you a sense of how very alone the soul is – just like that "isolated spider."

We know you have the point by now, but just take a second to look at how carefully he sets up this comparison. Here, the "measureless oceans of space" match up with the "vacant vast surrounding" in line 3. Even the word "surrounded" pops up again here, echoing that same word he chose before. Except, maybe here, it’s even a little bit more intense. Those measureless oceans sound really huge, and they might give you a feeling of profound loneliness that you didn’t have before. With the spider, we were in a normal space, somewhere on Earth. Now, we seem to be on some other plane, some huge outer or inner space. Whitman can definitely be a little weird when he wants to.

Line 8

Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them,

Now, the soul begins to spin its metaphorical webs.

These spider-like strings are what the soul is "throwing" in this line.

It uses the imaginary webs to explore the space; the soul is "venturing," "seeking."

This work, like the spider’s, is repetitive and endless. Whitman tells us that the soul always works and thinks – "ceaselessly musing," as he puts it.

But, what in the heck does the soul actually do? Maybe Whitman imagined something, in his spaced-out visions, but we’re not used to a soul "doing" anything.

This is why leading off with the spider example is so important. Now that we’re traveling through space, it seems less weird, because we can always rely on the metaphor of the spider. When we get confused about this journey of the soul, we can always compare it to the spider’s simple web spinning.

Lines 9-10

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.

Now, Whitman really brings the spider analogy home.

He begins to imagine what it is like when the soul succeeds, when its "gossamer (that just means "silky") thread" finally catches a solid point.

All the spider (and, apparently, the soul) needs is that first bridge, and then it can make all the other strings in its web.

He plays around with this idea a little, like when he talks about the "anchor" being "ductile." All that he means there is that the thread which the soul attaches is stretchy, and can be pulled out without breaking.

Whitman’s not very formal about his poetry, but he does get excited, and does let himself get carried away by an unusual word or a fascinating image. It’s part of his unique style, and can be charming when you get used to it. He really embroiders these last two lines, helping us to imagine how satisfying it is when that first line catches.

He emphasizes this by repeating the first two words ("Till the") in these last two lines. It gives the poem a sense of closure, like the rhyming couplet at the end of a sonnet.

But, before we leave this poem behind, we might need a serious reality check. Sure, we can tell that the soul tries to weave threads, kind of like a spider. It tries to start some kind of metaphorical web. But, what could Whitman possibly be talking about?

He leaves the poem on a mysterious note, since we know that the soul is trying to connect, but he doesn’t really say how, or to what.