#AmericanWriters
Far off in the sea is Marlena, A land of shades and streams, A land of many delights, Dark and bold, thy shores, Marlen… But green, and timorous, thy soft…
Though the Clerk of the Weather i… And lay down the weather-law, Pintado and gannet they wist That the winds blow whither they l… In tempest or flaw.
When I removed into the country, it was to occupy an old-fashioned farmhouse, which had no piazza—a deficiency the more regretted because not only did I like piazzas, as somehow combini...
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...
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
We rovers bold, To the land of Gold, Over the bowling billows are glidi… Eager to toil, For the golden spoil,
(Indicative of the Passion of the… on the 15th Day of April, 1865) * * * Good Friday was the day Of the prodigy and crime,
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…
As Queequeg and I are now fairly embarked in this business of whaling; and as this business of whaling has somehow come to be regarded among landsmen as a rather unpoetical and disreput...
As we were walking down the end of the wharf towards the ship, Queequeg carrying his harpoon, Captain Peleg in his gruff voice loudly hailed us from his wigwam, saying he had not suspec...
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;
IN relating to my friends various passages of my sea-goings I have at times had occasion to allude to that singular people the ‘Gees, sometimes as casual acquaintances, sometimes as shi...
In bed I muse on Tenier’s boors, Embrowned and beery losels all; A wakeful brain Elaborates pain: Within low doors the slugs of boor…
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...
I and my chimney, two grey-headed old smokers, reside in the country. We are, I may say, old settlers here; particularly my old chimney, which settles more and more every day. Though I ...