When I removed into the country, it was to occupy an old-fashioned farm-house, which had no piazza—a deficiency the more regretted, because not only did I like piazzas, as somehow combi...

While faith forecasts millennial y… Spite Europe’s embattled lines, Back to the Past one glance be ca… The Age of the Antonines! O summit of fate, O zenith of tim…

Some days elapsed, and ice and icebergs all astern, the Pequod now went rolling through the bright Quito spring, which, at sea, almost perpetually reigns on the threshold of the eternal...

Fear me, virgin whosoever Taking pride from love exempt, Fear me, slighted. Never, never Brave me, nor my fury tempt: Downy wings, but wroth they beat

In time and measure perfect moves All Art whose aim is sure; Evolving rhyme and stars divine Have rules, and they endure. Nor less the Fleet that warred fo…

Though fast youth’s glorious fable… View not the world with worldling’… Nor turn with weather of the time. Foreclose the coming of surprise: Stand where Posterity shall stand…

Arms reversed and banners creped - Muffled drums; Snowy horses sable—draped— McPherson comes. But, tell us, shall we know him mo…

Queequeg and I had just left the Pequod, and were sauntering away from the water, for the moment each occupied with his own thoughts, when the above words were put to us by a stranger, ...

So my poem is damned, and immortal fame is not for me! I am nobody forever and ever. Intolerable fate! Snatching my hat, I dashed down the criticism, and rushed out into Broadway, where...

Ay, man is manly. Here you see The warrior-carriage of the head, And brave dilation of the frame; And lighting all, the soul that le… In Spottsylvania’s charge to vict…

About the Shark, phlegmatical one… Pale sot of the Maldive sea, The sleek little pilot-fish, azure… How alert in attendance be. From his saw-pit of mouth, from hi…

In bed I muse on Tenier’s boors, Embrowned and beery losels all; A wakeful brain Elaborates pain: Within low doors the slugs of boor…

We fish, we fish, we merrily swim, We care not for friend nor for foe… Our fins are stout, Our tails are out, As through the seas we go.

Persian, you rise Aflame from climes of sacrifice Where adulators sue, And prostrate man, with brow abase… Adheres to rites whose tenor trace…

The sufferance of her race is show… And retrospect of life, Which now too late deliverance daw… Yet is she not at strife. Her children’s children they shall…