#AmericanWriters
My soul is more than matched; she’s overmanned; and by a madman! Insufferable sting, that sanity should ground arms on such a field! But he drilled deep down, and blasted all my reason ...
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,
Some days elapsed, and ice and icebergs all astern, the Pequod now went rolling through the bright Quito spring, which, at sea, almost perpetually reigns on the threshold of the eternal...
Concerning the officers of the whale-craft, this seems as good a place as any to set down a little domestic peculiarity on ship-board, arising from the existence of the harpooneer class...
_Commemorative of the Dissolution… May, 1865 What power disbands the Northern… After their steely play? The lonely watcher feels an awe
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.
Next morning, Monday, after disposing of the embalmed head to a barber, for a block, I settled my own and comrade’s bill; using, however, my comrade’s money. The grinning landlord, as w...
Father Mapple rose, and in a mild voice of unassuming authority ordered the scattered people to condense. “Starboard gangway, there! side away to larboard—larboard gangway to starboard!...
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,
ALOFT he guards the starry folds Who is the brother of the star; The bird whose joy is in the wind Exulteth in the war. No painted plume—a sober hue,
_At The Surf Inn_ List the harp in window wailing Stirred by fitful gales from sea: Shrieking up in mad crescendo— Dying down in plaintive key!
When Stubb had departed, Ahab stood for a while leaning over the bulwarks; and then, as had been usual with him of late, calling a sailor of the watch, he sent him below for his ivory s...
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...
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...
A TIME ago, no matter how long precisely, I, an old man, removed from the country to the city, having become unexpected heir to a great old house in a narrow street of one of the lower ...