#Americans
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…
1864 Listless he eyes the palisades And sentries in the glare; ’Tis barren as a pelican-beach But his world is ended there.
June, 1865 Armies he’s seen—the herds of war, But never such swarms of men As now in the Nineveh of the Nort… How mad the Rebellion then!
Queequeg was a native of Rokovoko, an island far away to the West and South. It is not down in any map; true places never are. When a new-hatched savage running wild about his native wo...
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...
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—
Care is all stuff:— Puff! Puff! To puff is enough:— Puff! Puff More musky than snuff,
The chief mate of the Pequod was Starbuck, a native of Nantucket, and a Quaker by descent. He was a long, earnest man, and though born on an icy coast, seemed well adapted to endure hot...
In shards the sylvan vases lie, Their links of dance undone, And brambles wither by thy brim, Choked fountain of the sun! The spider in the laurel spins,
By chapel bare, with walls sea-bea… The lichened urns in wilds are los… About a carved memorial stone That shows, decayed and coral-moss… A form recumbent, swords at feet,
November, 1863 A kindling impulse seized the host Inspired by heaven’s elastic air; Their hearts outran their General… Though Grant commanded there—
No sleep. The sultriness pervades… And blinds the brain-a dense oppre… As tawny tigers feel in matted sha… Vexing their blood and making apt… Beneath the stars the roofy desert…
Far to the northeast of Charles’s Isle, sequestered from the rest, lies Norfolk Isle, and, however insignificant to most voyagers, to me, through sympathy, that lone island has become a...
One noonday, at my window in the t… I saw a sight– saddest that eyes c… Young soldiers marching lustily Unto the wars, With fifes, and flags in mottoed p…
_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…