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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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 |
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| Year, Month, & Day | Single day |
| Year & Month | Whole month |
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| Month & Day | 1600-#-# to 2100-#-# |
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indeed, mattered little to him, for he has bided his time patiently and serenely, and when such captains
I wish to see my benefactor, and have felt much like striking my tasks and visiting New York to pay you
my respects.
The air tastes good to my palate.
Another song on the death of Lincoln, "Oh Captain! My Captain!"
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!
bit of pathos—indubitably human—in my eye, confess now am I not a man and a brother?"
place, with my own day, here."
my dwell- dwelling .)"
'O the life of my senses and flesh, transcending my senses and flesh.'
my South! O quick mettle, rich blood, impulse and love! good and evil! O all dear to me!"
my South!O quick mettle, rich blood, impulse and love! good and evil! O all dear to me!"
Me, ruthless and devilish as any, that my wrists are not chain'd with iron or my ankles with iron?
do I exclude you, Not till the waters refuse to glisten for you and the leaves to rustle for you, do my
"The chief end I purpose to myself in all my labours," wrote Dean Swift, "is to vex the world rather
and flows": "This day, before dawn, I ascended a hill and look'd at the crowded heaven, And I said to my
And my spirit said ' No .'"
suddenly,—reservedly, with a beautiful paucity of communication, even silently, such was its effect on my
single line or verse picked out here and there from the midst of his descriptions:— "Evening—me in my
room—the setting sun, The setting summer sun shining in my open windows window , showing the swarm of
take one breath from my tremulous lips; Take one tear, dropped aside as I go, for thought of you, Dead
I meant that you should discover me so, by my faint indirections; And I, when I meet you, mean to discover