Henry Howard Brownell

  • Whereas, on certain boughs and sprays
      Now divers birds are heard to sing,
    And sundry flowers their heads upraise,
      Hail to the coming on of spring!

    The songs of those said birds arouse
      The memory of our youthful hours,
    As green as those said...

  • [April, 1861]
    world, art thou ’ware of a storm?
        Hark to the ominous sound;
    How the far-off gales their battle form,
        And the great sea-swells feel ground!

    It comes, the Typhoon of Death—
        Nearer and nearer it comes!
    The horizon...

  • John Brown’s body lies a-moldering in the grave,
    John Brown’s body lies slumbering in his grave—
    But John Brown’s soul is marching with the brave,
              His soul is marching on.

              Glory, glory, hallelujah!
              Glory, glory, hallelujah!...

  • They glare—those stony eyes!
      That in the fierce sun-rays
      Showered from these burning skies,
      Through untold centuries
    Have kept their sleepless and unwinking gaze.

    Since what unnumbered year
      Hast thou kept watch and ward,
    And o’er...

  • Blue gulf all around us,
      Blue sky overhead—
    Muster all on the quarter,
      We must bury the dead!

    It is but a Danish sailor,
      Rugged of front and form;
    A common son of the forecastle,
      Grizzled with sun and storm.

    His name,...

  • Would you hear of the River-Fight?
    It was two of a soft spring night;—
      God’s stars looked down on all,
    And all was clear and bright
    But the low fog’s chilling breath—
    Up the River of Death
      Sailed the Great Admiral.

    On our high poop-...