#AmericanWriters
November, 1863 A kindling impulse seized the host Inspired by heaven’s elastic air; Their hearts outran their General… Though Grant commanded there—
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…
Strenuous need that head-wind be From purposed voyage that drives a… The ship, sharp-braced and dogged… Beating up against the blast. Brigs that figs for market gather,
Already we are boldly launched upon the deep; but soon we shall be lost in its unshored, harbourless immensities. Ere that come to pass; ere the Pequod’s weedy hull rolls side by side w...
We had lain thus in bed, chatting and napping at short intervals, and Queequeg now and then affectionately throwing his brown tattooed legs over mine, and then drawing them back; so ent...
Departed the pride, and the glory… The vaunt of her isles sleeps deep… That rolls o’er his corse with a h… His warriors bend over their spear… His sisters gaze upward and mourn.
To have known him, to have loved h… After loneness long; And then to be estranged in life, And neither in the wrong; And now for death to set his seal—
_If Luther’s day expand to Darwin… _Shall that exclude the hope—forec… Unmoved by all the claims our time… The ancient Sphinx still keeps th… shade;
The cabin; by the stern windows; Ahab sitting alone, and gazing out. I leave a white and turbid wake; pale waters, paler cheeks, where’er I sail. The envious billows sidelong swell to w...
“Few of us doubt, gentlemen, that human life on this earth is but a state of probation; which among other things implies, that here below, we mortals have only to do with things provisi...
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…
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.
When ocean-clouds over inland hill… Sweep storming in late autumn brow… And horror the sodden valley fills… And the spire falls crashing in th… I muse upon my country’s ills—
Silence and solitude may hint (Whose home is in yon piney wood) What I, though tableted, could ne… The din which here befell, And striving of the multitude.
That night, in the mid-watch, when the old man—as his wont at intervals—stepped forth from the scuttle in which he leaned, and went to his pivot-hole, he suddenly thrust out his face fi...