Zwaanendael
(Swan Dale.)
First Settlement in Delaware, 1631.
Below Henlopen's sand-blown hill,
From the Breakwater's pale,
O, can you see the crystal kill
That winds through Zwaanendael?
And when the ocean lightning plays
Among the masts so still,
O, can you see the cattle graze
Along the green Hoor Kill?
'Twas in the time when Wallenstein
No longer could prevail,
And great Gustavus broke his line,
They planted Zwaanendael;
From Amsterdam six months they sail,
To found a State their quest,
In six months more rose Zwaanendael,
The flying Dutchman's rest.
Within the bight the Walvis ship
Surprised the forest fawns
And answered to the Walloon songs
The squawking of the swans.
Against the new fort's Holland flags
Flickers the windmill's flail,
And to the storehouse roll the kags
To cheer up Zwaanendael.
The rank tobacco midst the pines
A season has grown hale,
And tangled in the sailor's lines
Spouts fountain high the whale;
Bright Indian girls through Indian corn
Bring beaver furs for sale,
Not softer than their velvet skins,
To men of Zwaanendael.
How fresh the oysters in the sound
They hardly wade to reach;
And in the autumn's rosy round
An oyster seems the peach.
The bees, in blossoms of its vines
Make honey o'er the yams,
And cooler than the brandy wines
In nectar from the clams.
Their herring salted and their traps
Set for the winter's sport,
Their pipes, their Bible and their schnapps
Are snug within the fort;
They'll teach the Minqua maids to skate,
Since all that's left are male,
And let the watchdog guard the gate
And fort of Zwaanendael.
Then, with a gun that from Cape May
In echoes spoke again,
The high-deck Walvis sailed away
And left there thirty men;
O, few they were to hold a zone,
But nothing made them pale,
Hid in the new world's vast alone
And snows of Zwaanendael
A year was past. The ship once more
Dropped anchor and gave gun:
No welcome answered from the shore —
They perished, every one.
Their bones, their cattle bones laid bare —
Left like his shell the snail —
Whitened the cape of Delaware
And cove of Zwaanendael.
Think not, ye Western pioneers,
Our older East was spared!
For every tender colony
The savage was prepared!
Our mighty State which built the mole
The storms to countervail,
Remembers not the tale of dole,
The wreck of Zwaanendael!
First Settlement in Delaware, 1631.
Below Henlopen's sand-blown hill,
From the Breakwater's pale,
O, can you see the crystal kill
That winds through Zwaanendael?
And when the ocean lightning plays
Among the masts so still,
O, can you see the cattle graze
Along the green Hoor Kill?
'Twas in the time when Wallenstein
No longer could prevail,
And great Gustavus broke his line,
They planted Zwaanendael;
From Amsterdam six months they sail,
To found a State their quest,
In six months more rose Zwaanendael,
The flying Dutchman's rest.
Within the bight the Walvis ship
Surprised the forest fawns
And answered to the Walloon songs
The squawking of the swans.
Against the new fort's Holland flags
Flickers the windmill's flail,
And to the storehouse roll the kags
To cheer up Zwaanendael.
The rank tobacco midst the pines
A season has grown hale,
And tangled in the sailor's lines
Spouts fountain high the whale;
Bright Indian girls through Indian corn
Bring beaver furs for sale,
Not softer than their velvet skins,
To men of Zwaanendael.
How fresh the oysters in the sound
They hardly wade to reach;
And in the autumn's rosy round
An oyster seems the peach.
The bees, in blossoms of its vines
Make honey o'er the yams,
And cooler than the brandy wines
In nectar from the clams.
Their herring salted and their traps
Set for the winter's sport,
Their pipes, their Bible and their schnapps
Are snug within the fort;
They'll teach the Minqua maids to skate,
Since all that's left are male,
And let the watchdog guard the gate
And fort of Zwaanendael.
Then, with a gun that from Cape May
In echoes spoke again,
The high-deck Walvis sailed away
And left there thirty men;
O, few they were to hold a zone,
But nothing made them pale,
Hid in the new world's vast alone
And snows of Zwaanendael
A year was past. The ship once more
Dropped anchor and gave gun:
No welcome answered from the shore —
They perished, every one.
Their bones, their cattle bones laid bare —
Left like his shell the snail —
Whitened the cape of Delaware
And cove of Zwaanendael.
Think not, ye Western pioneers,
Our older East was spared!
For every tender colony
The savage was prepared!
Our mighty State which built the mole
The storms to countervail,
Remembers not the tale of dole,
The wreck of Zwaanendael!
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