#AmericanWriters
Youth is the time when hearts are… And stirring wars Appeal to the spirit which appeals… To the blade it draws. If woman incite, and duty show
Though the Clerk of the Weather i… And lay down the weather-law, Pintado and gannet they wist That the winds blow whither they l… In tempest or flaw.
Wandering late by morning seas When my heart with pain was low— Hate the censor pelted me— Deject I saw my shadow go. In elf-caprice of bitter tone
Happy are they and charmed in life Who through long wars arrive unsca… At peace. To such the wreath be g… If they unfalteringly have striven… In honor, as in limb, unmarred.
When tempest winnowed grain from b… And men were looking for a man, Authority called you to the van, McClellan: Along the line the plaudit ran,
Farewell and adieu to you noble he… Farewell and adieu to you ladies o… For I’ve received orders for to s… Deadman, But hope with the grand fleet to s…
_From ‘Rammon.’_ Through storms you reach them and… storms are free. Afar descried, the foremost drear… But, nearer, green; and, on the ma…
One noonday, at my window in the t… I saw a sight– saddest that eyes c… Young soldiers marching lustily Unto the wars, With fifes, and flags in mottoed p…
In bed we concocted our plans for the morrow. But to my surprise and no small concern, Queequeg now gave me to understand, that he had been diligently consulting Yojo—the name of his bl...
The _Charles-and-Emma_ seaward sp… (Named from the carven pair at pro… He so smart, and a curly head, She tricked forth as a bride knows… Pretty stem for the port, I trow!
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…
All dripping in tangles green, Cast up by a lonely sea If purer for that, O Weed, Bitterer, too, are ye?
In behalf of the dignity of whaling, I would fain advance naught but substantiated facts. But after embattling his facts, an advocate who should wholly suppress a not unreasonable surmi...
It was nearly six o’clock, but only grey imperfect misty dawn, when we drew nigh the wharf. “There are some sailors running ahead there, if I see right,” said I to Queequeg, “it can’t b...
The ribs and terrors in the whale, Arched over me a dismal gloom, While all God’s sun-lit waves rol… And left me deepening down to doom… I saw the opening maw of hell,