#AmericanWriters
Were shronke into the jawes, as he did never dine. Southeast of Crossman’s Isle lies Hood’s Isle, or McCain’s Beclouded lsle, and upon its south side is a vitreous cove with a wide stra...
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.
Where is the world we roved, Ned… Hollows thereof lay rich in shade By voyagers old inviolate thrown Ere Paul Pry cruised with Pelf a… To us old lads some thoughts come…
Some chapters back, one Bulkington was spoken of, a tall, newlanded mariner, encountered in New Bedford at the inn. When on that shivering winter’s night, the Pequod thrust her vindicti...
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.
From ‘The Saya-y-Manto.’ While now the Pole Star sinks fro… The Southern Cross it climbs the… But losing thee, my love, my light… O bride but for one bridal night,
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...
I had not been seated very long ere a man of a certain venerable robustness entered; immediately as the storm-pelted door flew back upon admitting him, a quick regardful eyeing of him b...
There is a coal-black Angel With a thick Afric lip, And he dwells (like the hunted and… In a swamp where the green frogs d… But his face is against a City
The cavalry-camp lies on the slope Of what was late a vernal hill, But now like a pavement bare– An outpost in the perilous wilds Which ever are lone and still;
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,
Sailors there are of the gentlest… Yet strong, like every goodly thin… The discipline of arms refines, And the wave gives tempering. The damasked blade its beam can fl…
By chapel bare, with walls sea-bea… The lichened urns in wilds are los… About a carved memorial stone That shows, decayed and coral-moss… A form recumbent, swords at feet,
As we were walking down the end of the wharf towards the ship, Queequeg carrying his harpoon, Captain Peleg in his gruff voice loudly hailed us from his wigwam, saying he had not suspec...
All dripping in tangles green, Cast up by a lonely sea If purer for that, O Weed, Bitterer, too, are ye?