Ballads of Peace in War

<h2> OLD HUDSON ROVERS </h2> <p>(For Joyce Kilmer)<br/></p> <p>When the dreamy night is on, up the Hudson river,<br/> And the sheen of modern taste is dim and far away,<br/> Ghostly men on phantom rafts make the waters shiver,<br/> Laughing in the sibilance of the silver spray.<br/> Yea, and up the woodlands, staunch in moonlit weather,<br/> Go the ghostly horsemen, adventuresome to ride,<br/> White as mist the doublet-braize, bandolier and feather,<br/> Fleet as gallant Robin Hood in an eventide.<br/> <br/> Times are gone that knew the craft in the role of rovers,<br/> Fellows of the open, care could never load:<br/> Unalarmed for bed or board, they were leisure's lovers,<br/> Summer bloomed in story on the Hyde Park Road.<br/> Summer was a blossom, but the fruit was autumn,<br/> Fragrant haylofts for a bed, cider-cakes in store,<br/> Warmer was a cup they know, when the north wind caught 'em<br/> Down at Benny Havens' by the West Point shore.<br/> <br/> Idlers now-and loafers pass, joy is out of fashion,<br/> Honest fun that fooled a dog or knew a friendly gate,<br/> Now the craft are vagabonds, sick with modern passion,<br/> Riding up and down the shore, on an aching freight;<br/> Sullen are the battered looks, cheerless talk or tipsy,<br/> Sickly in the smoky air, starving in the day,<br/> Pining for a city's noise at Kingston or Po'keepsie,<br/> Eager more for Gotham and a great White Way.<br/> <br/> Rich is all the countryside, but glory has departed,<br/> What if yachts and mansions be, by the river's marge!<br/> Dim though was a hillside, lamps were happy-hearted,<br/> Near the cove of Rondout in a hut or barge.<br/> Silken styles are tyrants, fashion kills the playtime,<br/> Robs the heart of largess that is kindly to the poor,<br/> Richer were the freemen, welcome as the Maytime,<br/> Glad was boy or maiden, seeing Brennan of the moor.<br/> <br/> Send us back the olden knights, tell no law to track 'em,<br/> Give to boy and maid the storytellers as of yore,<br/> Millionaires in legend-wealth, though no bank would back 'em,<br/> But old Benny Havens by the West Point Shore.<br/> Off with lazy vagabonds, social ghosts that shiver,<br/> Give to worthy road-men the great green way,<br/> And we'll hear a song again up the Hudson river,<br/> Ringing from a drifting raft, set in silver spray.<br/></p> <p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"></SPAN></p> <br/> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />