#AmericanWriters
_The Return of the Sire de Nesle… A.D. 16 My towers at last! These rovings… Their thirst is slaked in larger d… The yearning infinite recoils,
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…
One man we claim of wrought reknow… Which not the North shall care to… A Modern lived who sleeps in deat… Calm as the marble Ancients are: ’Tis he whose life, though a vapor…
About the Shark, phlegmatical one… Pale sot of the Maldive sea, The sleek little pilot-fish, azure… How alert in attendance be. From his saw-pit of mouth, from hi…
Some relics of the hut of Oberlus partially remain to this day at the head of the clinkered valley. Nor does the stranger, wandering among other of the Enchanted Isles, fail to stumble ...
The gloomy hulls in armor grim, Like clouds o’er moors have met, And prove that oak, and iron, and… Are tough in fibre yet. But Splendors wane. The sea-fight…
I saw a ship of material build (Her standards set, her brave appa… Directed as by madness mere Against a solid iceberg steer, Nor budge it, though the infactuat…
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–
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
_For Graves at Pea Ridge, Arkans… Let none misgive we died amiss When here we strove in furious fig… Furious it was; nathless was this Better than tranquil plight,
_For Soldiers lost in Ocean Tran… When, after storms that woodlands… To valleys comes atoning dawn, The robins blithe their orchard-sp… And meadow-larks, no more withdraw…
The grass shall never forget this… When homeward footing it in the su… After the weary ride by rail, The stripling soldiers passed her… Wounded perchance, or wan and pale…
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 ...
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
What grand irregular thunder, thought I, standing on my hearthstone among the Acroceraunian hills, as the scattered bolts boomed overhead and crashed down among the valleys, every bolt ...