Page:The poems of Edmund Clarence Stedman, 1908.djvu/103

PETER STUYVESANT'S NEW YEAR'S CALL While Govert proudly showed the scars

Of Indian contests gory.

Erelong, the berry's power awoke

Some music in their brains,

And, trumpet-like, through rolling smoke,

Rang long-forgotten strains,—

Old Flemish snatches, full of blood,

Of phantom ships and battle;

And Peter, with his leg of wood,

Made floor and casement rattle.

Then round and round the dresser pranced,

The chairs began to wheel,

And on the board the punch-bowl danced

A Netherlandish reel;

Till midnight o'er the farm-house spread

Her New-Year's skirts of sable,

And, inch by inch, each puzzled head

Dropt down upon the table.

But still to Peter, as he dreamed,

That table spread and turned;

The chimney-log blazed high, and seemed

To circle as it burned;

The town into the vision grew

From ending to beginning;

Fort, wall, and windmill met his view,

All widening and spinning.

The cowpaths, leading to the docks,

Grew broader, whirling past,

And checkered into shining blocks,—

A city fair and vast;

Stores, churches, mansions, overspread

The metamorphosed island,

While not a beaver showed his head

From Swamp to Kalchook highland.

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