#AmericanWriters
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…
In this same New Bedford there stands a Whaleman’s Chapel, and few are the moody fishermen, shortly bound for the Indian Ocean or Pacific, who fail to make a Sunday visit to the spot. I...
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
Plain be the phrase, yet apt the v… More ponderous than nimble; For since grimed War here laid as… His painted pomp, 'twould ill befi… Overmuch to ply
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…
Ha! ha! ha! ha! hem! clear my throat!—I’ve been thinking over it ever since, and that ha, ha’s the final consequence. Why so? Because a laugh’s the wisest, easiest answer to all that’s ...
With banners furled and clarions m… An army passes in the night; And beaming spears and helms salut… The dark with bright. In silence deep the legions stream…
Kept up by relays of generations y… Never dies at halyards the blithe… While in sands, sounds, and seas w… storm-petrels cry, Dropped mute around the globe, the…
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…
The cabin; by the stern windows; Ahab sitting alone, and gazing out. I leave a white and turbid wake; pale waters, paler cheeks, where’er I sail. The envious billows sidelong swell to w...
Skimming lightly, wheeling still, The swallows fly low Over the field in clouded days, The forest-field of Shiloh— Over the field where April rain
In placid hours well-pleased we dr… Of many a brave unbodied scheme. But form to lend, pulsed life crea… What unlike things must meet and m… A flame to melt—a wind to freeze;
Yon black man-of-war-hawk that whe… the light O’er the black ship’s white sky-s’… cloud to the sight, Have we low-flyers wings to ascend…
The sufferance of her race is show… And retrospect of life, Which now too late deliverance daw… Yet is she not at strife. Her children’s children they shall…
While faith forecasts millennial y… Spite Europe’s embattled lines, Back to the Past one glance be ca… The Age of the Antonines! O summit of fate, O zenith of tim…