The poems of John G. C. Brainard A new and authentic collection, with an original memoir of his life |
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TO A FRIEND IN THE NAVY, SICK AT HOME. |
 | The poems of John G. C. Brainard |  |
TO A FRIEND IN THE NAVY, SICK AT HOME.
The wave, the wave, the Yankee wave
That dances white and blue,
That roars in might, or laughs outright,
Or smiles and whispers too,
It is the same, whence'er it came,
And wheresoe'er it go,—
In piping gale or plaintive wail,
In triumph or in woe.
That dances white and blue,
That roars in might, or laughs outright,
Or smiles and whispers too,
It is the same, whence'er it came,
And wheresoe'er it go,—
In piping gale or plaintive wail,
In triumph or in woe.
You've seen it on mid-ocean's surge
When war called up its wrath,
Yelling the fated foeman's dirge,
And howling round his path,—
You've seen it on the playful shore,
Its cheek upon the sand,
When winds were still and storms were o'er,
Kissing the quiet land.
When war called up its wrath,
Yelling the fated foeman's dirge,
And howling round his path,—
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Its cheek upon the sand,
When winds were still and storms were o'er,
Kissing the quiet land.
By every promontory's sweep,
By every little bay,
By every shore and every steep
Where the smooth eddies play,—
Where'er the silver minim's fin
Scoops out his tiny cave,
To paddle or to ponder in,
You've seen the Yankee wave.
By every little bay,
By every shore and every steep
Where the smooth eddies play,—
Where'er the silver minim's fin
Scoops out his tiny cave,
To paddle or to ponder in,
You've seen the Yankee wave.
How gayly did it once bear up
Your little shingle boat,
And, when a bigger boy, on it
Your skiff you first did float;
And since, upon the broadest deck
That ever swam the seas,
You've raised a penon, proudest yet
That ever flapped the breeze.
Your little shingle boat,
And, when a bigger boy, on it
Your skiff you first did float;
And since, upon the broadest deck
That ever swam the seas,
You've raised a penon, proudest yet
That ever flapped the breeze.
Soon may you leave your fevered bed,
As one who quits a wreck,
And show once more a---'s head
Upon a quarter-deck,—
Yes! leave your home, for ocean's foam,
And join your comrades brave,
For well I know, of all below,
You love the Yankee wave.
As one who quits a wreck,
And show once more a---'s head
Upon a quarter-deck,—
Yes! leave your home, for ocean's foam,
And join your comrades brave,
For well I know, of all below,
You love the Yankee wave.
| The poems of John G. C. Brainard | |