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A Noiseless Patient Spider

1A noiseless patient spider,
2I mark'd where on a little promontory it stood isolated,
3Mark'd how to explore the vacant vast surrounding,
4It launch'd forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself,
5Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.
6And you O my soul where you stand,
7Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,
8Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them,
9Till the bridge you will need be form'd, till the ductile anchor hold,
10Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.
 What thou lovest well remains,
                  the rest is dross
What thou lov'st well shall not be reft from thee
What thou lov'st well is thy true heritage
Whose world, or mine or theirs
                or is it of none?
First came the seen, then thus the palpable
    Elysium, though it were in the halls of hell,
What thou lovest well is thy true heritage
What thou lov'st well shall not be reft from thee
Ezra Pound Pisan Cantos, LXXXI