Jerry by Walter Aimwell — Read

Once there was a little, green peninsula that lay amid the shining / waters like a pear upon a plate of burnished silver. The Indians-whose / light canoes, like feathers, now and then glided across the gleamy / ripples-called the peninsula Mishawum, and the water Mystic.

Since then, lying centuries in the sunshine of God's blessing, the pear / has ripened until its surface is ruddy with the homes of civilization, / and gray with the dust of commerce; and the salver has been etched by the / shadows of a thousand foreign spars.