Simply enter the word you wish to find and the search engine will search for every instance of the word in the journals. For example: Fight. All instances of the use of the word fight will show up on the results page.
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Searching for a specific phrase may help narrow down the results. Rather long phrases are no problem. For example: "This white pudding we all esteem".
Because of the creative spellings used by the journalists, it may be necessary to try your search multiple times. For example: P?ro*. This search brings up numerous variant spellings of the French word pirogue, "a large dugout canoe or open boat." Searching for P?*r*og?* will bring up other variant spellings. Searching for canoe or boat also may be helpful.
| Entering in only one field | Searches |
|---|---|
| Year, Month, & Day | Single day |
| Year & Month | Whole month |
| Year | Whole year |
| Month & Day | 1600-#-# to 2100-#-# |
| Month | 1600-#-1 to 2100-#-31 |
| Day | 1600-01-# to 2100-12-# |
WHEN LILACS LAST IN THE DOORYARD BLOOM'D . . . 255 O CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN . . . . . . . . 262 HUSH'D BE
O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN! O CAPTAIN! my Captain!
O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. O Captain!
my Captain!
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse
WHEN LILACS LAST IN THE DOORYARD BLOOM'D . . . 255 O CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN . . . . . . . . 262 HUSH'D BE
O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN! O CAPTAIN! my Captain!
O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. O Captain!
my Captain!
or "To the Leaven'd Soil they Trod," Or "Captain! My Captain!"
Now I laugh content, for I hear the voice of my little captain,(says my grandmother's father;) We have
my Captain!
O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN! 1 O CAPTAIN! my captain!
Leave you not the little spot, Where on the deck my captain lies.
Fallen cold and dead. 2 O captain! my captain!
breaking out of the Rebellion, he was drawn to the seat of war to look after a wounded brother —a captain
earth, she cried—I charge you, lose not my sons!
d; And you trees, down in your roots, to bequeath to all future trees, My dead absorb—my young mens
coffin that slowly passes, I give you my sprig of lilac.
And what shall my perfume be, for the grave of him I love?
"Song of my Cid" is an epic poem of the mid-12th century and the earliest surviving work of Spanish literature
We closed with him—the yards entangled—the can- non cannon touch'd; My captain lash'd fast with his own
Now I laugh content, for I hear the voice of my little captain, We have not struck, he composedly cries
Only three guns are in use; One is directed by the captain himself against the ene- my's enemy's main-mast
Serene stands the little captain; He is not hurried—his voice is neither high nor low; His eyes give
The black ship, mail'd with iron, her mighty guns in her turrets—but the pluck of the captain and engineers
with bends and chutes, And my Illinois fields, and my Kansas fields, and my fields of Missouri, The
My limbs, my veins dilate, my theme is clear at last, Banner so broad advancing out of the night, I sing
VIGIL strange I kept on the field one night; When you my son and my comrade dropt at my side that day
WHILE my wife at my side lies slumbering, and the wars are over long, And my head on the pillow rests
Ah my silvery beauty—ah my woolly white and crimson! Ah to sing the song of you, my matron mighty!
with bends and chutes, And my Illinois fields, and my Kansas fields, and my fields of Missouri, The
My limbs, my veins dilate, my theme is clear at last, Banner so broad advancing out of the night, I sing
VIGIL strange I kept on the field one night; When you my son and my comrade dropt at my side that day
WHILE my wife at my side lies slumbering, and the wars are over long, And my head on the pillow rests
Ah my silvery beauty—ah my woolly white and crimson! Ah to sing the song of you, my matron mighty!
O Manhattan, my own, my peerless! O strongest you in the hour of danger, in crisis!
VIGIL strange I kept on the field one night: When you, my son and my comrade, dropt at my side that day
O my soldiers twain! O my veterans, passing to burial!
heart, O my soldiers, my veterans, My heart gives you love.
WHILE my wife at my side lies slumbering, and the wars are over long, And my head on the pillow rests
of the sisters Death and Night incessantly softly wash again, and ever again, this soil'd world; For my
look where he lies white-faced and still in the coffin—I draw near, Bend down and touch lightly with my
of the sisters Death and Night incessantly softly wash again, and ever again, this soil'd world; For my
look where he lies white-faced and still in the coffin—I draw near, Bend down and touch lightly with my
the sisters Death and Night, incessantly softly wash again, and ever again, this soil'd world: …For my
where he lies, white-faced and still, in the coffin—I draw near; I bend down and touch lightly with my
Death and Night, inces- santly incessantly softly wash again, and ever again, this soil'd world: …For my
where he lies, white-faced and still, in the coffin —I draw near; I bend down, and touch lightly with my
Phantoms welcome, divine and tender, Invisible to the rest, henceforth become my companions; Follow me
Perfume therefore my chant, O Love! immortal Love!
For that we live, my brethren—that is the mission of Poets.
the sisters Death and Might, incessantly softly wash again, and ever again, this soil'd world. … For my
where he lies, white-faced and still in the coffin—I draw near; I bend down and touch lightly with my