Biding By the River

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Biding by the River

It faces the Delaware where silver shad
spawned as apple trees white-blossomed,

here the Lenape fished and camped,
servants helped to hoe and spin—one ran away
from the stone and brick, the ten people or more
within,

and the woman who stayed as cannonballs flew
and later nursed the injured there,

and died, yellowed
from a Aedes aegypti mosquito bite,
stowaway insects on merchant ships
bred in the swampy ground, but

the house lived on,
surrounded by mass graves,
towering trees, flowers, and butterflies–

the green-shuttered windows still glow,
and eagles fly overhead,

ghosts look out from the glass
or walk upon the grass and beach–
there a golden guinea glitters,

and across time’s divide,
a startled yearling flits.

For dVerse. The prompt was to write about a building. I chose the Whitall House, which is in the park where I often walk. It was the house of James and Ann Whitall, built in 1748 (the fieldstone section perhaps earlier). They were Quakers with family connections in the area. They had nine children, eight who lived, as well as servants, including indentured servants. One ran away, and I believe James posted a notice to get her back, but I’m not certain what happened. During the American Revolution (the war for independence from Great Britain), Ft. Mercer was built there, and Ft. Mifflin across the river to defend Philadelphia. On October 22, 1777, American forces defeated the Hessian mercenary soldiers. Though, if you don’t know, the British forces under General Howe occupied Philadelphia. The Whitall house became a field hospital. Supposedly, Ann stayed through the battle and nursed soldiers from both sides. The remains of soldiers have been found recently on the grounds. The house and grounds, however, are more than a battle site. A family lived here once, and they had a plantation (meaning a commercial farm), where they had a fishery, mill, and orchards, among other things. And of course, before Europeans came, it was the land of the Lenape.

Here is a sketch of the Whitall House from 1922—much closer to the river. That would have been the front of the house, and ferries took people across the river. Now the back door by the garden is used as the main entrance.

The Whitall House, c.1922 Credit: The Library Company of Philadelphia

Here it is today in a photo I took from approximately the same angle.

57 thoughts on “Biding By the River”

  1. I remember the photograph of the window from a recent Facebook post, Merril, and I thought how welcoming it looked. The other images fill in some gaps, as does the background information. I love how you set the scene in the opening stanzas, in time and space, and these lines especially – you know I love ghosts and wildlife:

     ‘the green-shuttered windows still glow,
    and eagles fly overhead,

    ghosts look out from the glass
    or walk upon the grass and beach–
    there a golden guinea glitters,

    and across time’s divide,
    a startled yearling flits.’

  2. A beautiful poem. I feel that “the house lived on,
    surrounded by mass graves,
    towering trees, flowers, and butterflies–“ speaks eloquently to the cycle and nature of life.

    • That’s a lovely comment, Melissa. Thank you!
      I wonder what the family would make of it being a park now with a playground and picnic tables. Ann would probably think it was ungodly and frivolous. Seriously, her diary is like one big complaint. 😂

  6. I greatly enjoyed this tribute to the history of the house you feature so often. (When I saw the title of the poem, the old hymn “Shall We Gather at the River?” started playing in my head.) I did a quick search online, but I couldn’t find any information about the difference in the house’s distance from the river. Was it moved at some point?

  8. Beautiful, Merril. I spent more than 30 years back East and fell in love with the history of homes, bridges, barns, and so much more. Thank you for sharing as you have.

  9. So different, the east and south from the west and middle west. Lived the life of the former and then she nursed the troops but died herself from a mosquito bite. A nice poem, Yvonne. We were sparse in the new Midwest with growing pains, my school had eight students while I was there for eight grades. Consolidated in a way, for two years I had three in my high school class, but moved to town and had 48 graduate.

    ..

  14. I love the poem and appreciate the backgrounder of the house. How fascinating to read about the family and house. Very lyrical verses specially the ending lines. 

  18. I appreciate your poem and explanation of this house that held family memories and also became an historical site, Merril. Thanks for sharing! I wonder if the river was re-channeled at some point?

  19. Thank you for the historical context Merril, your forte, The house is glorious in the photo – love the brick work. The poem is the house – a retelling of so many relationships and activities, sadness and joy, the richness of life, death, change indeed history, all come and go but the house remains.

    • Thank you so much, Paul. I like that, the poem is the house. The house has seen a lot of history–people that wandered there before it was built, too.
      You can’t see the brickwork on the house too well in this photo, but another historian explained it to me once. I believe the fieldstone part of the house was built first. The brick pathway is pretty, but constructed in recent times.

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