Fires ablaze and candles alight,
Soldier and officer feasted that night.
The enemy? Safe, with a river between,
Black and deadly and fierce and keen;
A river of ice and a blinding storm!—
So they made them merry and kept them warm.
But while they mirth and roistering made,
Up in her dormer window stayed
Mistress Penelope Penwick apart,
With fearful thought and sorrowful heart.
Night by night had her candle's gleam
Sent through the dark its hopeful beam.
But the nights they came and they passed again,
With never a sign from her countrymen;
For where beat the heart so brave, so bold,
Which could baffle that river's bulwark cold?
Penelope's eyes and her candle's light
Were mocked by the storm that Christmas night.
But lo, full sudden a missile stung
And shattered her casement pane and rung
At her feet! 'Twas a word from the storm outside.
She opened her dormer window wide.
A wind-swept figure halted below—
The ferryman, old and bent and slow.
Then a murmur rose upward—only one,
Thrilling and powerful—"Washington!"
With jest and laughter and candles bright,
'Twas two by the stairway clock that night,
When Penelope Penwick tripped her down,
Dressed in a short-waisted satin gown,
With a red rose (cut from her potted bush).
There fell on the rollicking crowd a hush.
She stood in the soldiers' midst, I ween,
The daintiest thing they e'er had seen!
And swept their gaze with her eyes most sweet,
And patted her little slippered feet.
"'Tis Christmas night, sirs," quoth Sweet P,
"I should like to dance! Will you dance with me?"
Oh, but they cheered; ran to and fro,
And each for the honor bowed him low.
With smiling charm and witching grace
She chose him pranked with officer's lace
And shining buttons and dangling sword;
No doubt he strutted him proud as a lord!
Doffed with enmity, donned with glee,—
Oh, she was charming, that Sweet P!
And when it was over, and blood aflame,
Came an eager cry for "A game!" "A game!"
"We'll play at forfeits," Penelope cried.
"If one holdeth aught in his love and pride,
"Let each lay it down at my feet in turn,
And a fine from me shall he straightway learn!"
What held they all in their love and pride?
Straight flew a hand unto every side;
Each man had a sword and nothing more,
And the swords they clanged in a heap on the floor.
Standing there, in her satin gown,
With candlelight on her yellow crown,
And at her feet a bank of steel
(I'll wager that look was caught by Peale!)
Penelope held her rose on high—
"I fine each one for a leaf to try!"