Classic Poem

Feet on the hills and heads in the sky,
Bathing our brows in the breath of spring,
Buoyant and youthful and clear of eye
Over a glorified road we swing.

Meadows are greening their winter tan,
Orchards are heavy with scented snow.
On! through the Vale of the Nepperhan,
Over the Heights of Pocantico!

Dogwood and laurel and trailing pine
Mantle the furrowed and craggy scaurs;
Creamy dicentra and columbine
Nod o'er the ashes of buried wars;

Rebel and Tory have made their bed—
Harmless, their sabers a truce have found
Under the verdure that lifts our tread,
Deep in the heart of the Neutral Ground.

(Here is the church on the haunted ridge,
Lichens of centuries fleck the sides;
Shrouded and headless, o'er yonder bridge
Nightly the Galloping Hessian rides.

(What though a burden of moldered stones
Cover their forms from the eyes of men!
Ichabod, Baltus, and Big Brom Bones
Rise through the magic of Irving's pen.)

Hudson in majesty meets the sea—
Monarch of mountains and goblin glades;
Laughing, the ripple of Tappan Zee
Mocks at the frown of the Palisades.

Slumbers the land in a golden spell.
Hush! The Enchanter hath laid him down,
Close by the river he loved so well,
Here in the Hollow of Tarrytown.