John Townsend Trowbridge (September 18, 1827 – February 12, 1916) was an American author born in Ogden, New York, USA, to Windsor Stone Trowbridge and Rebecca Willey. His papers are located at the Houghton Library at Harvard University.
His novels include Neighbor Jackwood (1857), an antislavery novel; The Old Battle-Ground (1859); Cudjo's Cave (1864); The Three Scouts (1865); Lucy Arlyn (1866); Neighbors' Wives (1867); Coupon Bonds, and Other Stories (1873); and Farnell's Folly.Another is Evening At The Farm.
Trowbridge wrote numerous works under the pseudonym of Paul Creyton, including The Midshipman's Revenge (1849), Kate the Accomplice, or, The Preacher and the Burglar (1849), The Deserted Family, or, Wanderings of an Outcast (1853), Father Brighthopes, or, An Old Clergyman's Vacation (1853), Burr Cliff: its Sunshine and its Clouds (1853); Martin Merrivale: His X Mark (1854), Iron Thorpe (1855), Neighbor Jackwood (1857).
Among his very many juvenile tales are The Drummer Boy, The Prize Cup, The Lottery Ticket, The Tide-Mill Stories, The Toby Trafford Series, The Little Master, and the Jack Hazard series. His published volumes of verse include: The Vagabonds, and Other Poems; The Emigrant's Story, and Other Poems; A Home Idyl, and Other Poems; The Lost Earl; and The Book of Gold, and Other Poems. The Vagabonds, At Sea, Midsummer, and Guy Vernon: A Novelette in Verse are among his best-known poems.
In Darius Green and his Flying Machine, Trowbridge penned the following prophetic verse: "Darius was clearly of the opinion / That the air is also man's dominion / And that with paddle or fin or pinion, / We soon or late shall navigate / The azure as now we sail the sea." Since his death he has been well known as a friend of Mark Twain and Walt Whitman.
WE are two travellers, Roger and I.
Roger ’s my dog.—Come here, you scamp!
Jump for the gentlemen,—mind your eye!
...
FROM the house of desolation,
From the doors of lamentation,
I went forth into the midnight and the vistas of the moon;
...
JUST back from a beach of sand and shells,
And shingle the tides leave oozy and dank,
...
The listening Dryads hushed the woods;
The boughs were thick, and thin and few
The golden ribbons fluttering through;
...
HER triumphs are over, the crown
Has passed from her brow;
And she smiles, 'To whom now does the town
My poor laurels allow?'
...