#AmericanWriters
Children of my happier prime, When One yet lived with me, and t… Her rainbow over life and time, Even Hope, my bride, and mother t… O, nurtured in sweet pastoral air,
Returning to the Spouter-Inn from the Chapel, I found Queequeg there quite alone; he having left the Chapel before the benediction some time. He was sitting on a bench before the fire, ...
Did all the lets and bars appear To every just or larger end, Whence should come the trust and c… Youth must its ignorant impulse le… Age finds place in the rear.
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.
“How bravely now we live, how jocund, how near the first inheritance, without fear, how free from little troubles!” Near two centuries ago Barrington Isle was the resort of that famous ...
If you seek to ascend Rock Rodondo, take the following prescription. Go three voyages round the world as a main-royal-man of the tallest frigate that floats; then serve a year or two ap...
It will be seen that this mere painstaking burrower and grub-worm of a poor devil of a Sub-Sub appears to have gone through the long Vaticans and street-stalls of the earth, picking up ...
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—
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...
I have a feeling for those ships, Each worn and ancient one, With great bluff bows, and broad i… Ay, it was unkindly done. But so they serve the Obsolete–
Lonesome on earth’s loneliest deep… Sailor! who dost thy vigil keep— Off the Cape of Storms dost musin… Over monstrous waves that curl and… Of thee we think when here from br…
1860-1 The Ancient of Days forever is yo… Forever the scheme of Nature thri… I know a wind in purpose strong— It spins _against_ the way it driv…
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
Aloof they crown the foreland lone… From aloft they loftier rise— Fair columns, in the aureole rolle… From sunned Greek seas and skies. They wax, sublimed to fancy’s view…
No sleep. The sultriness pervades… And blinds the brain-a dense oppre… As tawny tigers feel in matted sha… Vexing their blood and making apt… Beneath the stars the roofy desert…