WITH sword and Bible, brood and dame, Across the seas from Denmark came Stout Jonas Bronck. He roved among The wooded vales of Ah-qua-hung. "Good sooth! on every hand," quoth he, "Are pleasant lands and fair to see; But which were best to plow and till And meetest both for manse and mill?" "Bronck! Bronck! Bronck!" Called the frogs from the reeds of the river; "Bronck! Bronck! Bronck!" From the marshes and pools of the stream. "Here let your journeyings cease; Blest of the Bounteous Giver, Ours is the Valley of Peace, Here is the home of your dream." "Oho!" laughed Jonas Bronck; "I ween These pop-eyed elves in bottle-green Do call my name to show the spot Predestined! -- Here I cast my lot!" So there he reared his dwelling-place And built a mill, with wheel and race. And even now, beneath the hill When summer nights are fair and still: "Bronck! Bronck! Bronck!" Rise the cadenced batrachian numbers; "Bronck! Bronck! Bronck!" Chant a myriad chorister gnomes; "High on the shadowy crest Under the hemlock he slumbers. Here is the region of rest; Come to our Valley of Homes!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BARON'S LAST BANQUET by ALBERT GORTON GREENE THE FIELD MOUSE by WILLIAM SHARP ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 84 by PHILIP SIDNEY FLORAL DECORATIONS FOR BANANAS by WALLACE STEVENS |