Classic Poem

“The Western Shore I will not stand
And in its mudholes flounder,
But try the hard alluvial sand:
The Eastern Shore is sounder”
So Washington, the President,
His stablemen commanded;
Down the Peninsula he went,
His gallant coach, four-handed.

Chester and Wilmington turned out
To see the Chieftain travel;
He found the road not roundabout,
Quite level and quite gravel.
At Christeen bridge he laid him down,
The bull frogs serenaded;
Next night he was at Chestertown
And not a muscle jaded.

They burnt a bonfire on the Green,
The black band played in bold time,
Where more than once the mimic scene
The players gave in old time,
And Charley Peale, the saddler's lad,
The General's coach had varnished,
And Mistress Turbutt's son-in-law bad
The patriot roll had tarnished.

The General's youth Peale painted best
From home made art and knowledge,
And Chestertown upon its crest
Raised Washington a college;
How calm upon the river street
The old brick mansions lined them!
Around the Court House, crimped and sweet,
The lawyers' daughters wind them!

Sweet water from the cool marsh spring
The slave girls balanced, toting,
And round the new Republic's King
Sweet whispers aye were floating:
“How good! How great! And what a smile!”
“I wish that he would kiss us!”
“This road has saved him many a mile!”
“I knew he would not miss us!”

Ice cream was every student's treat,
The sassafras beer was popping
With ginger cakes; the market street
That night did royal shopping.
Next afternoon the coach and all
Upon the bay were tossing,
They ferried over from Rock Haul,
By Anne Arundel crossing.

The periauger was a scow,
With masts and sails at endings;
Midships the coach was edged somehow,
The horses strained at bendings;
Sidewise they sailed; the wind shrieked high,
The waves the craft were tossing—
The General murmured, with a sigh:
“This beats the Trenton crossing!”

Next, fog and dark hid bow from stern;
They sounded and they cast lead.
Barely they saw the lantern burn
A'swinging gainst the masthead.
Gulls flew aboard with panic screams,
The lamp a wild duck shivered;
The periauger oped her seams
And eke the State Coach quivered.

Whinnied the horses in their fright,
The mainsail split and scalloped;
The General said: “This beats the night
We crossed at Hell Gate, walloped!”
The gale burst over, in the slop
The coach and steeds half floated
And counter blasts brought to a stop
The ark, no longer boated.

Anon the muffled lightning shoots
And zigzag winds recruited;
The General said: “Pull off your boots
And exercise. web-footed!”
She lifts; all shifts; she drifts; fog rifts
Then closes like a vision;
Ghost voices near made seaman fear
They'll perish in collision.

The General slept in his great coat
Coached, and the coach boys told him:
“Dar is no Jonah in dis boat;
Dar is no fish will hold him!”
“What's that?” The old man broke his spell—
Turned up his ear to ponder,
“I dreamed I heard the State House bell:
Annapolis is yonder!”

The fog he baffled went before,
The cove-bound mart resigning,
And like his flag, the Eastern Shore
Red, white and blue was shining;
“Farewell!” waved Washington his hand,
“I found you gay and merry;
But till you build a rainbow bridge
I cannot cross your ferry!”