18 pages • 36-minute read
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The form is prototypical Whitman—that is, entirely like Whitman and entirely unlike any other poetry of his era. At first read, there is a stabilizing form: two five-line stanzas (called quintains), each stanza actually a single sentence, separated by function—the first centered on the spider, the other an explication of that image. The lines themselves, however, defy expectations. They develop their argument according to the argument itself. In the opening stanza, about the spider and its web, the tidy lines match the relatively narrow range of the image. In the second stanza, when the poem celebrates the reach of the soul into the cosmos itself, the lines explode, reflecting that feverish energy. The lines are longer, sinewy, and tensile like the “ductile anchor” (Line 9), the rich webbing the soul sends out.
Thus, the poem is not so much free verse—that suggests chaos and carelessness—but rather organic verse. In truth, Whitman’s unconventional message of the immanence of eternity and the essential connectivity of all elements of the cosmos could hardly be contained, much less expressed, in traditional, conventional poetic forms. Even as the noiseless, patient spider sends reels and reels of filament out in the universe, busting through the apparent smallness of its frame and the insignificance of its actions, the poet himself proclaims his own position in the cosmos, the reward of his constant restless questioning and his refusal to accept the status quo in poetic form that reflects that empowerment.
Given Whitman’s pioneering concept of open verse, “A Noiseless Patient Spider” creates not so much a beat of stressed/unstressed units as it sustains the tempo, like jazz. “A Noiseless Patient Spider” sounds accidental and conversational. Like jazz improvisations, Whitman sounds easy, feels easy. But Whitman, drawing on his love of opera (pure stimulation from the sounds of elegantly recited music, as Whitman only spoke English and did not know the words being sung) and his fascination with the cacophony of Manhattan’s streets, creates a careful patterning of sounds that, in turn, enhances rather than demands meter.
There are the more obvious manipulations of patterns to create a kind of chanting feel: assonance, for instance (the repetition of vowel sounds, usually long vowels, in the same line: “promontory”/“stood” [Line 2] or “unreeling”/“speeding” [Line 5]); alliteration (the repetition of consonant sounds in the same line: “vacant”/“vast” [Line 3], for instance, or “forth”/“filament” [Line 4]); and the manipulation of repetition (the word “filament,” for instance, and all the gerunds in Line 8). The poem works each line, subtly manipulating vowels and consonants, making each line its own unit of meter and allowing the recitation of each line to change with each delivery, like a jazz musician playing the same song every night but each time playing it differently.
It’s easy to hear Whitman’s shifting meter: Read the poem aloud and pretend you are sad, then read it aloud pretending you’re deliriously happy. That recreation of meter, as much psychological as it is mathematical, owes much to Whitman’s delight in opera, how arias changed each night despite being the same song and the same performer, a concept that made Whitman's own recitations and readings on the Lyceum circuit popular.
The aging Walter Elias Whitman, Jr. is not the speaker here. It is Walt Whitman, America’s Poet, a persona Whitman shaped, fueled by the impassioned demand of the much-respected Ralph Waldo Emerson, the Sage of Boston, that America needed to produce an original poet. Walter Whitman, a journalist with a sixth-grade education, became Walt Whitman and spoke as the national poet of inspiration, equal parts priest, confidence-man, visionary, and prophet. The soul he addresses is not any soul. It is not the soul but rather what the Soul (with the capital letter) ought to be. That dialogue between Walt Whitman, Poet, and the Soul upcycles the speaker/reader dynamic into essentially a grand interior monologue.



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