Classic and Contemporary Poetry
RAMBOUT VAN DAM; THE FLYING DUTCHMAN OF THE TAPPAN ZEE, by ARTHUR GUITERMAN Poet's Biography First Line: On tappan zee a shroud of gray Last Line: A sound -- and naught beside. Variant Title(s): Rambout Van Dam Subject(s): Legends; New York City - Dutch Period; Tappan Zee, Hudson River | ||||||||
ON Tappan Zee a shroud of gray Is heavy, dank, and low; All dimly gleams the beacon-ray Of White Pocantico. No skipper braves old Hudson now Where Nyack's headlands frown, And safely moored is every prow Of drowsy Tarrytown; Yet, clear as word of human lip, The river sends its shores The rhythmic rullock-clank and drip Of even-rolling oars. What rower plies a reckless oar With mist on flood and strand? That oarsman toils for evermore, And ne'er shall reach the land! Roistering, rollicking Ram van Dam, Fond of a frolic and fond of a dram, Fonder -- yea, fonder, proclaims Renown, Of Tryntje Bogardus of Tarrytown, Leave Spuyten Duyvil to roar his song! Pull! for the current is sly and strong; Nestles the robin and flies the bat. Ho! for the frolic at Kakiat! Merry the sport at the quilting-bee Held at the farm by the Tappan Zee! Jovial labor with quips and flings Dances with wonderful pigeonwings, Twitter of maidens and clack of dames, Honest flirtations and rousing games; Platters of savory beef and brawn, Buckets of treacle and good suppawn, Oceans of cider and beer in lakes, Mountains of crullers and honey-cakes -- Such entertainment should never pall! Rambout van Dam took his fill of all; Laughed with the wittiest, worked with a zest, Danced with the prettiest, drank with the best. Oh, that enjoyment should breed annoy! Tryntje grew fickle, or cold or coy; Rambout, possessed of a jealous sprite, Scowled like the sky on a stormy night, Snarled a "good-by" from his sullen throat, Blustered away to his tugging boat. After him hastened Jacobus Horn: "Stay with us, Rambout, till Monday morn. Soon in the east will the dawn be gray; Rest from thy oars on the Sabbath Day." Angrily, Rambout van Dam ripped back: "Dunder en blixem! du Schobbejak! Preach to thy children! and let them know Spite of the Duyvil and thee, I'll row Thousands of Sundays, if need there be, Home o'er this ewig-vervlekte zee!" Muttering curses, he headed south. Jacob, astounded, with open mouth Watched him receding, when -- crash on crash Volleyed the thunder! A hissing flash Smote on the river! -- He looked again: -- Rambout was gone from the sight of men! Old Dunderberg with grumbling roar Hath warned the fog to flee, But still that never-wearied oar Is heard on Tappan Zee. A moon is closed in Hudson's breast And lanterns gem the town; The phantom craft that may not rest Plies ever, up and down, 'Neath skies of blue and skies of gray, In spite of wind or tide, Until the trump of Judgment Day; -- A sound -- and naught beside. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CALL TO THE COLORS by ARTHUR GUITERMAN THE RUSH OF THE OREGON by ARTHUR GUITERMAN THE STORMING OF STONY POINT [JULY 16, 1779] by ARTHUR GUITERMAN A BAZAAR BALLAD by ARTHUR GUITERMAN A CITY GARDEN by ARTHUR GUITERMAN A DEAL IN REAL ESTATE by ARTHUR GUITERMAN A LEGEND OF MAIDEN LANE by ARTHUR GUITERMAN |
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