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.
There are no more uses of "gossamer" in the book.
Show samples from other sources
a fairy with gossamer wings
...a parachute — a few gossamer yards grasping onto air and suspending below them, with invisible threads, a human life,