THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS
by: Thomas Hood (1799-1845)
- NE more
unfortunate,
- Weary of breath,
- Rashly importunate,
- Gone to her death!
-
- Take her up tenderly
- Lift her with care;
- Fashion'd so slenderly,
- Young, and so fair!
-
- Look at her garments
- Clinging like cerements;
- Whilst the wave constantly
- Drips from her clothing;
- Take her up instantly,
- Loving, not loathing.
-
- Touch her not scornfully;
- Think of her mournfully,
- Gently and humanly;
- Not of the stains of her,
- All that remains of her
- Now is pure womanly.
-
- Make no deep scrutiny
- Into her mutiny
- Rash and undutiful:
- Past all dishonor,
- Death has left on her
- Only the beautiful.
-
- Still, for all slips of hers,
- One of Eve's family--
- Wipe those poor lips of hers
- Oozing so clammily.
-
- Loop up her tresses
- Escaped from the comb,
- Her fair auburn tresses;
- Whilst wonderment guesses
- Where was her home?
-
- Who was her father?
- Who was her mother?
- Had she a sister?
- Had she a brother?
- Or was there a dearer one
- Still, and a nearer one
- Yet, than all other?
-
- Alas! for the rarity
- Of Christian charity
- Under the sun!
- O, it was pitiful!
- Near a whole city full,
- Home she had none.
-
- Sisterly, brotherly,
- Fatherly, motherly
- Feelings had changed:
- Love, by harsh evidence,
- Thrown from its eminence;
- Even God's providence
- Seeming estranged.
-
- Where the lamps quiver
- So far in the river,
- With many a light
- From window and casement,
- From garret to basement,
- She stood, with amazement,
- Houseless by night.
-
- The bleak wind of March
- Made her tremble and shiver;
- But not the dark arch,
- Or the black flowing river:
- Mad from life's history,
- Glad to death's mystery,
- Swift to be hurl'd--
- Anywhere, anywhere
- Out of the world!
-
- Is she plunged boldly--
- No matter how coldly
- The rough river ran--
- Over the brink of it,
- Picture it--think of it,
- Dissolute Man!
- Lave in it, drink of it,
- Then, if you can!
-
- Take her up tenderly,
- Lift her with care;
- Fashion'd so slenderly,
- Young, and so fair!
-
- Ere her limbs frigidly
- Stiffen too rigidly,
- Decently, kindly,
- Smooth and compose them;
- And her eyes, close them,
- Staring so blindly!
-
- Dreadfully staring
- Thro' muddy impurity,
- As when with the daring
- Last look of despairing
- Fix'd on futurity.
-
- Perishing gloomily,
- Spurr'd by contumely,
- Cold inhumanity,
- Burning insanity,
- Into her rest.--
- Cross her hand humbly
- As if praying dumbly,
- Over her breast!
-
- Owning her weakness,
- Her evil behavior,
- And leaving, with meekness,
- Her sins to the Savior!
"The Bridge of Sighs"
is reprinted from The Oxford Book of English Verse: 12501900.
Ed. Arthur Quiller-Couch. Oxford: Clarendon, 1919. |
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