They look so bony. dearest place to live.
It is a land of oil, of corn and wine.
not milk; nor spring-time eggs. in spite of this,
nowhere in America will you find

more opulent gardens dragged up from the sea.
they say they burn their candles green and gold.
rocks thrown at creation's final day.
ye cannot breathe such clear, sunny cold.

Sacred To the Memory of JOHN,
lost overboard near 1836
To the Memory of ROBERT LONG,
towed out by a Whale in the Pacific

This Marble is here placed to CAPTAIN ZEKE,
killed by a Whale on the coast of Japan
his Memory is Shaking off the sleet
from my ice-glazed sideways solemn trance

because he was the one who could not read
those frigid trappings of unceasing grief

the better man you don't see every day
minus his trowsers he did crush himself—
when, from sundry violent gasps and strains
I inferred he was at work booting himself;

he emerged much dented crushed and damp,
off of a bitter morning to the street
the more I begged to get into his pants
as soon as possible and then proceed.

to my amazement, lathering his face
I watch to see his razor, the harpoon.
what fine harpoon and how exceedingly straight
as he proudly marched out of the room

I quickly followed, very pleasantly.
I cherished my bedfellow, cheerfully.

hand in Queequeg's pagan art round me,
I tried to move —unlock his bridegroom clasp—
yet, sleeping as he was, he still hugged me ,
his only answer was a snore; a scratch.

aside the counterpane, a tomahawk ,
a hatchet- baby pretty , truly; bed
here in a strange broad day, a tomahawk
a wriggling hug, a grunt like Newfoundland

stiff as a pike-staff, looking at me I came
though a dim consciousness over him. I bent
upon observing so at last his mind
he reconciled to jump the apartment

a civilized overture; delicacy,
he treated me with much civility

just as I thought, a terrible bedfellow;
he's been in a fight, got dreadfully cut,
his face, black stains of some sort or another.
his complexion, a tropical purplish yellow one.

all these ideas pass through me like lightning
his seal-skin wallet — his new beaver hat—
I came nigh singing out with fresh surprise.
I would bolt out but it was the second floor back.

his head- purple as the devil
his chest and arms. As I live, his face;
his back seemed to be as marked as a parcel
he fascinated me by the fireplace.

his fire- a very appropriate little shrine
his fingers sing-song twitched about in time.

crazy old sea chest as a wash-stand
the bed stood scrutiny tolerably well.
rude shelf, four walls, fireboard, a seaman's bag,
a parcel of bone fish hooks on the shelf,

a harpoon standing at the head of the bed,
a poncho, shaggy and thick, a little damp.
I sat down on the bedside to undress.
made no ado, but jumped out of my pants.

mattress stuffed with corn or crockery,
I couldn't sleep. footfalls from under the door.
the stranger entered, a good way off from me,
then began working at the knotted cords.

his face — good heavens! Such a face! here and there
stuck over with large, blackish looking squares.

"Landlord! I've changed my mind.—shan't sleep with him.
I'll try the bench here."
"as you please; But wait,
I've got a plane, and an old handkerchief,
The shavings flew; The landlord was near sprain.

the bench, too short; but mended with a chair.
too narrow, and the other higher than—
the bench along the wall, a draught of air
under the sill a series of whirlwinds

Thinks I, I'll wait awhile; he must drop in.
we may be jolly fellows after all—
But though the other boarders kept coming in,
no sign. It was now hard on twelve o'clock.

"Can't sell his head—What a bamboozingly?"
"stop spinning that yarn to me—I'm not green."

I seed her in the offing this three years
Enveloped in their shaggy woollen beards
stiff with ice, an eruption of bears
a pitch-like potion of colds and catarrhs

ice-island. liquor mounted to their heads,
arrantast topers newly land from sea,
aloof, desirous sober as the rest.
a noble chest like I have seldom seen

such brawn. His face was deeply brown and burnt,
making his white teeth dazzling; while his eyes
announced that he was a Southerner,
fine Alleganian revelry of his height

he became my comrade on the sea.
began a little previous to me.

The opposite of this entry was hung all
over with heathenish monstrous clubs and spears
set with teeth resembling ivory saws;
others tuft with knots of human hair;

and one was sickle-shaped, a vast segment
You gazed, what could have gone death-harvesting
with such a horrifying implement
Mixed in with these were rusty old whaling

harpoons all broken elbowed fifty years —
so like a corkscrew flung in Javan seas
and run away with by a whale, years
a restless needle of full forty feet

this corner-anchored ark rocked furiously
with cracked glass cases, dusty rarities

gable-ended Inn, condemned old craft.
large oil-painting so thoroughly defaced,
understand its unaccountable mass
shades that you almost delineate

But what most puzzled and confounded you
was a long, limber, portentous black mass
of something hovering in the centre blue,
dim, nameless yeast. A squitchy nervous tract.

—It's the Black Sea. —It's the four elements.
—It's a Hyperborean winter scene.
—a faint resemblance to a giant fish?
a Cape-Horner in a great hurricane;

half-foundered with its three dismantled masts
a whale, impaling himself upon the mast

Chief among these motives was the whale
portentious and mysterious monster roused
the undeliverable perils of the whale;
a thousand Patagonian sights and sounds,

I am tormented with an everlasting itch for things remote.
I love to sail forbidden seas, and land on barbarous coasts.