Saturday
May 31, 2003
A Noiseless Patient Spider
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Poem: "A Noiseless Patient Spider," by Walt Whitman.
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.
Literary Notes:
It's the birthday of Walt
Whitman, born in
West Hills, Long Island (1819). When Whitman was six years old, his father took
him to see a public appearance of the Marquis de Lafayette, the French general
who had helped Americans win the Revolutionary War. Lafayette picked the six-year-old
Whitman out of the crowd, lifted the boy into his arms, and kissed him on the
cheek. Whitman felt that the moment marked him for greatness. While he was still
in his teens, he became an apprentice printer on a liberal working-class newspaper
in Brooklyn. In his free time, he wandered about the city's museums and theaters
and streets, talking to and debating with everyone he met. He especially loved
to hear his elders talk about the past, and in his first published article,
he wrote about his amazement that there were people alive who could remember
when New York City was a small village.
Through his job as a printer, he grew to love how words looked on a page, the
typeface in which they appeared, and the effects of various spatial arrangements.
He said of his first published writing, "How it made my heart double-beat
to see my piece on the pretty white paper, in nice type." Whitman was forced
to go back to Long Island, where he had some family, and work as a schoolteacher,
which was a form of damnation to him.
To get away from teaching, he tried to start his own newspaper, The Long-Islander,
but the paper failed after a year. Whitman eventually moved back to New York
City and began writing for a variety of newspapers. The price of newspapers
in New York had fallen from ten cents to one or two cents as editors tried to
reach a broader audience, and Whitman loved the penny papers' grubby, lively
style. He wrote, "I like limber, lashing, fierce words. I like them in
newspapers, courts, debates, congress
strong, cutting, beautiful rude words."
He experimented with a variety of popular styles of writing, and even wrote
a novel concerning the evils of alcohol called Evans; or The Inebriate:
A Tale of the Times (1842), which sold more than 20,000 copies, more than
any other book that Whitman published in his lifetime. In the1850's, as the
United States headed toward the Civil War, Whitman grew to believe that he should
write something to hold his country together. He began to keep a series of notebooks,
full of both poetry and prose, and in one of the earliest he wrote,
"I am the poet of the body
And I am the poet of the soul."
The first edition of his book Leaves of Grass came out
on July 4th 1855. Whitman paid for its publication himself and arranged for
it to be sold in different formats, at different prices, to reach as wide an
audience as possible. He sent copies to many of the important writers and critics
of his day, and only Ralph Waldo Emerson responded to the book. He wrote to
Whitman, "I greet you at the beginning of a great career." Whitman
later published Emerson's comment on the cover of Leaves of Grass,
making it one of the first book blurbs in American publishing history.
Be well, do good work, and keep in touch.®