New Castle! old for us, so new
And old and polyglotted then,
When seisin plucked by William Penn
He witnessed from thy turf and dew!
Almost alone on firm ground standing,
Within thy piers the nations landing,
Have drunk thy floody river's view.

Thy legends fade in pavement grass
As if they stretched from Holland towns,
And through thy tippling boors and clowns
We see the Schouts of Anstel pass.
Thy Swedish fort we are regarding
And Dutch and English ships bombarding:
Then, sold to slavery man and lass.

Talbots and Utyes, Marylanders,
Ride in thy market place to swagger,
But never meet their favorite dagger
Among thy tranquil, boozed commanders;
More beer than blood thy streets were spilling,
And never was there higher killing
Than New Year ducks and geese and ganders.

Tobacco for New Amsterdams
And market for thy trappers' skins,
Thy great seines sparkled with the fins
Of shining shad, and eels and clams;
The fishwives crowd to scale and salting,
Thy barley ground to brew when malting,
And pipe-smoke cured the borough hams.

So still the streets, the court in session
Seemed Sunday with one sleepy preaching.
There never was an age when peaching
And drying peaches knew regression.
Tobacco smoke forever floated;
Lovemaking in the night was boated,
And sounds of smacks were its confession.

The pillory and stocks, long standing,
Made all the culprits used to whipping,
'Twas over soon, like jacket-stripping,
And no hard feelings left, like branding
There never was an hour when singing
From jail was not a little ringing,
Unless the hangman's noose was banding.

The higher law brought mental pleasure,
Reads, Grays and Bayards higher faces,
And Clayton argued higher cases
That in the old burgh left some treasure.
Bright women came to cultured spouses,
Society had better houses,
New Castle found a golden leisure.

The British took our British deedings
To lodge them long and keep them better,
Or till we broke the red coat fetter
And wiped away their special pleadings.
Then negro sales ruled, till the nation
Heard Lincoln call Emancipation;
No more black-letter were our readings.

The cars across the portage started,
Two centuries after 'twas a place,
And passengers sedately carted;
Almost the cows might with them race.
Then Wilmington struck up its wassail
And met its bells with tired New Castle—
The tortoise with the hare may chase.