My heart goes back to rhyme Upon that olden time! Three hundred years are fled, The ancient speech is dead, Since on the isle of Tinicum, Green as an emerald fair, Rimmed by the Delaware, Was heard the morning drum, Or evening church-bells' chime. Eyeing the drowsy flood, A mighty mansion stood; Builded of brick and wood Carried from Sweden's shore By Printz, the Governor. Herein he drank his wine, Watching the river shine Beyond the level fields. Here, proud and wild, The sachems filed, And found him just and mild. But never yields The sword he wields, Nor pales his brow of tan, Before the Holland man, Before Manhattan's clan. Gaily and gallantly, Symbol of victory, Fair Sweden's banner blows, Nor rival fears nor knows! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CAPPER KAPLINSKI AT THE NORTH SIDE CUE CLUB by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE SACHEM OF THE CLOUDS (A THANKSGIVING LEGEND) by ROBERT FROST WESTERN CIVILIZATION by JAMES GALVIN STREET-CRIES: 7. A SONG OF LOVE by SIDNEY LANIER THE NIGHT MOTHS by EDWIN MARKHAM NICHARCHUS UPON PHIDON HIS DOCTOR by EZRA POUND |