#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,
We drop our dead in the sea, The bottomless, bottomless sea; Each bubble a hollow sigh, As it sinks forever and aye. We drop our dead in the sea,—
Convulsions came; and, where the f… Long slept in pastoral green, A goblin-mountain was upheaved (Sure the scared sense was all dec… Marl-glen and slag-ravine.
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,
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.
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—
“Such a queer dream, King-Post, I never had. You know the old man’s ivory leg, well I dreamed he kicked me with it; and when I tried to kick back, upon my soul, my little man, I kicked ...
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, ...
WHO inhabiteth the Mountain That it shines in lurid light, And is rolled about with thunders, And terrors, and a blight, Like Kaf the peak of Eblis–
_From ‘Rammon.’_ Through storms you reach them and… storms are free. Afar descried, the foremost drear… But, nearer, green; and, on the ma…
(Indicative of the Passion of the… on the 15th Day of April, 1865) * * * Good Friday was the day Of the prodigy and crime,
q|“That darkesome glen they enter, where they find 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...
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…
_Commemorative of the Dissolution… May, 1865 What power disbands the Northern… After their steely play? The lonely watcher feels an awe
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...