To Melville

Where sailors smell land,
With harpoon in hand.
By Ahab's side
We ride the tide,
With Quaker hand
Nowhere to stand.
The flukes arise.
The towering tail
Smahes upon our whale.

Eide on the spray
O! Spouting foam
Smell the oil
As we strain and toil.
Down they go,
No hope of spoil.

To all but one,
The Grat White beast
Calls on to feast.
One alone safe from Pequod's grave.
One alone to tell Melville's tale.
One alone of the Great White Whale.