Classic and Contemporary Poetry
BRONX, 1818, by JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE Poem Explanation Poet's Biography First Line: I sat me down upon a green bank-side Last Line: And hear a voice long loved in thy wild minstrelsy. Alternate Author Name(s): Croaker Subject(s): Bronx, New York City; New York City - 19th Century | ||||||||
I SAT me down upon a green bank-side, Skirting the smooth edge of a gentle river, Whose waters seemed unwillingly to glide, Like parting friends who linger while they sever; Enforced to go, yet seeming still unready, Backward they wind their way in many a wistful eddy. Gray o'er my head the yellow-vested willow Ruffled its hoary top in the fresh breezes, Glancing in light, like spray on a green billow, Or the fine frost-work which young winter freezes; When first his power in infant pastime trying, Congeals sad autumn's tears on the dead branches lying. From rocks around hung the loose ivy dangling, And in the clefts sumach of liveliest green, Bright ising-stars the little beach was spangling, The gold-cup sorrel from his gauzy screen Shone like a fairy crown, enchased and beaded, Left on some morn, when light flashed in their eyes unheeded. The hum-bird shook his sun-touched wings around, The bluefinch caroll'd in the still retreat; The antic squirrel capered on the ground Where lichens made a carpet for his feet: Through the transparent waves, the ruddy minkle Shot up in glimmering sparks his red fin's tiny twinkle. There were dark cedars with loose mossy tresses, White powdered dog-trees, and stiff hollies flaunting Gaudy as rustics in their May-day dresses, Blue pelloret from purple leaves upslanting A modest gaze, like eyes of a young maiden Shining beneath dropt lids the evening of her wedding. The breeze fresh springing from the lips of morn, Kissing the leaves, and sighing so to lose 'em, The winding of the merry locust's horn, The glad spring gushing from the rock's bare bosom: Sweet sights, sweet sounds, all sights, all sounds excelling, Oh! 'twas a ravishing spot formed for a poet's dwelling. And did I leave thy loveliness, to stand Again in the dull world of earthly blindness? Pained with the pressure of unfriendly hands, Sick of smooth looks, agued with icy kindness? Left I for this thy shades, were none intrude, To prison wandering thought and mar sweet solitude? Yet I will look upon thy face again, My own romantic Bronx, and it will be A face more pleasant than the face of men. Thy waves are old companions, I shall see A well-remembered form in each old tree, And hear a voice long loved in thy wild minstrelsy. | Discover our poem explanations - click here!Other Poems of Interest...HYMN OF THE CITY by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT ODE TO FORTUNE by FITZ-GREENE HALLECK MANHATTAN ARMING by WALT WHITMAN FITZ-GREENE HALLECK, AT THE UNVEILING OF HIS STATUE by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER CITY LYRICS by NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS TO THE LADY IN THE CHIMSETTE WITH BLACK BUTTONS by NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS TWO WOMEN by NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS THE 'STAY AT HOME'S' PLAINT, 1878 by GEORGE AUGUSTUS BAKER JR. EMPORIUM VERSUS NEW YORK, 1854 by JACOB BIGELOW THE MARCH OF THE REGIMENT, 1861 by HENRY HOWARD BROWNELL |
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