A May-Day Legend of Mannahatta

'Twas in the month when lilacs bloom,
When apple-blossoms breathe perfume
To call the bees; when bluebirds throng,
When bobolink regains his song;
When, clear and cloudless, archly smile
The dear blue skies that love our isle.

Across a dimpling, dancing bay
That laved its bows with golden spray,
Full-sailed, a little squadron bore
To Mannahatta's virgin shore
A city's founders — Kips, Van Dorns,
Van Tienhovens, Schermerhorns,
Van Dams, Van Wycks, Van Dycks, Van Pelts,
And Onderdoncks and Roosevelts.

Right glad they leaped ashore — when lo!
With threatening spear, and supple bow
In menace bent, a stately band
Of woodland chieftains barred the strand.
" In peace return! " a sachem old
Began; " This bowered isle we hold
As sacred — ever blessed anew
By footprints of the Manitou;
Nor may we yield, for blood or spoil,
Our birthright in its hallowed soil. "

Rejoined that man of subtle wit
The wily Peter Minuit,
" Hail, noble chiefs! Your island's fame
Hath reached the land from whence we came,
Wide leagues away. But little space
We crave — a meager resting-place.
Behold these keen-edged knives; this store
Of well-barbed hooks and beads galore;
These blankets and this fragrant cask!
For all, a poor exchange we ask:
The scanty plot of countryside
A Dutchman's breeches serve to hide! "

The chief assented with a smile —
(Alas! unskilled in Paleface guile!)
Then, loyal to his leader's look,
Advanced the sturdy Gert Ten Broeck —
Through Holland noted far and near
For amplitude of nether gear —
And spread, amid a hush profound,
His mighty garment on the ground!

Perhaps the wonder came to pass
By grace of good Saint Nicholas;
Perhaps a marvelous array
The Dutchman wore — I cannot say;
But, while the Red Men stared, dismayed,
Ten Broeck, in silence, stripped and laid
His mystic garments, row on row,
Until to Spuyten Duyvil's flow
A cloud of knickerbockers quite
Obscured the soil from mortal sight!
And thus our cherished dwelling-place
Was ransomed from the savage race.

For proof you ask? Ah, skeptic few!
Will Nature's word suffice for you?
Attend! When flower-laden May
Is ushered in by Moving Day,
And all our folk, with van and stage,
Renew the ancient pilgrimage —
Where still, unchained by steel and stone,
The Gentle Goddess holds her own,
Appear on clustered stems a clan
Of dancing blossoms, known to man
As " Dutchman's Breeches " — in the style
Of Sixteen-Twenty. Thus our isle
Again displays in every nook
The garments of the great Ten Broeck.