Herman Melville Poems
|81.||The New Zealot To The Sun||4/19/2010|
|82.||The Night March||4/19/2010|
|84.||The Ravaged Villa||4/19/2010|
|85.||The Released Rebel Prisoner||4/19/2010|
|86.||The Scout Toward Aldie||4/19/2010|
|87.||The Stone Fleet||4/19/2010|
|88.||The Swamp Angel||4/19/2010|
|90.||The Tuft Of Kelp||4/19/2010|
|91.||The Victor Of Antietam||4/19/2010|
|93.||To The Master Of The _Meteor_||4/19/2010|
When ocean-clouds over inland hills
Sweep storming in late autumn brown,
And horror the sodden valley fills,
And the spire falls crashing in the town,
I muse upon my country's ills--
The tempest burning from the waste of Time
On the world's fairest hope linked with man's foulest crime.
Nature's dark side is heeded now--
(Ah! optimist-cheer dishartened flown)--
A child may read the moody brow
Of yon black mountain lone.
With shouts the torrents down the gorges go,
And storms are formed behind the storms we feel:
The hemlock shakes in the ...
The Berg (A Dream)
I saw a ship of material build
(Her standards set, her brave apparel on)
Directed as by madness mere
Against a solid iceberg steer,
Nor budge it, though the infactuate ship went down.
The impact made huge ice-cubes fall
Sullen in tons that crashed the deck;
But that one avalanche was all--
No other movement save the foundering wreck.