by: Herman Melville (1819-1891)
POEMS BY HERMAN MELVILLE
came; and, where the field
- Long slept in pastoral green,
- A goblin-mountain was upheaved
- (Sure the scared sense was all deceived),
- Marl-glen and slag-ravine.
- The unreserve of Ill was there,
- The clinkers in her last retreat;
- But, ere the eye could take it in,
- Or mind could comprehension win,
- It sunk!--and at our feet.
- So, then, Solidity's a crust--
- The core of fire below;
- All may go well for many a year,
- But who can think without a fear
- Of horrors that happen so?