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Herman Melville - The Berg
Work rating: Medium

I saw a ship of material build 
(Her standards set, her brave apparel on) 
Directed as by madness mere 
Against a solid iceberg steer, 
Nor budge it, though the infactuate ship went down. 
The impact made huge ice-cubes fall 
Sullen in tons that crashed the deck; 
But that one avalanche was all— 
No other movement save the foundering wreck. 

Along the spurs of ridges pale, 
Not any slenderest shaft and frail, 
A prism over glass-green gorges lone, 
Toppled; or lace or traceries fine, 
Nor pendant drops in grot or mine 
Were jarred, when the stunned ship went down. 
Nor sole the gulls in cloud that wheeled 
Circling one snow-flanked peak afar, 
But nearer fowl the floes that skimmed 
And crystal beaches, felt no jar. 
No thrill transmitted stirred the lock 
Of jack-straw neddle-ice at base; 
Towers indermined by waves—the block 
Atilt impending— kept their place. 
Seals, dozing sleek on sliddery ledges 
Slipt never, when by loftier edges 
Through the inertia ovrthrown, 
The impetuous ship in bafflement went down. 

Hard Berg (methought), so cold, so vast, 
With mortal damps self-overcast; 
Exhaling still thy dankish breath— 
Adrift dissolving, bound for death; 
Though lumpish thou, a lumbering one— 
A lumbering lubbard loitering slow, 
Impingers rue thee ad go slow 
Sounding thy precipice below, 
Nor stir the slimy slug that sprawls 
Along thy dead indifference of walls.
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