AUTUMN TIDES 105 



fence, and leading off toward the sky, may be seen 

 the cables of the flying spider, a fairy bridge from 

 the visible to the invisible. Occasionally seen 

 against a deep mass of shadow, and perhaps enlarged 

 by clinging particles of dust, they show quite plainly 

 and sag down like a stretched rope, or sway and 

 undulate like a hawser in the tide. 



They recall a verse of our rugged poet, Walt 

 Whitman : 



" A noiseless patient spider, 



I mark'd where, in 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 spreading them. 



" And you, O my soul, where you stand, 

 Surrounded, surrounded, in measureless oceans of space, 

 Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, 

 Seeking the spheres to connect them; 

 Till the bridge you will need be formed till the ductile anchor 



hold ; 

 Till the gossamer thread you fling, catch somewhere, O my 



soul." 



To return a little, September may be described 

 as the month of tall weeds. Where they have been 

 suffered to stand, along fences, by roadsides, and 

 in forgotten corners, redroot, pigweed, ragweed, 

 vervain, goldenrod, burdock, elecampane, thistles, 

 teasels, nettles, asters, etc., how they lift them 

 selves up as if not afraid to be seen now! They 

 are all outlaws; every man's hand is against them; 

 yet how surely they hold their own! They love 

 the roadside, because here they are comparatively 

 safe; and ragged and dusty, like the common 



