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The Bridge of Time
High o'er a flood, which boils and foams below,
Upon a bridge, with musing steps, I tread;
Who built its ancient piers we cannot know,
Long since their names were numbered with the dead.
Upon a bridge, with musing steps, I tread;
Who built its ancient piers we cannot know,
Long since their names were numbered with the dead.
403
Scarcely a thought the hurrying travellers give
To those old builders, long since passed away;
Contented in the present time to live,
To enjoy the pleasures of the passing day.
To those old builders, long since passed away;
Contented in the present time to live,
To enjoy the pleasures of the passing day.
Yet on their memory I grateful dwell,
As on I walk amid the thoughtless throng;
And of their toils for others fain would tell,
And celebrate their virtues in my song.
As on I walk amid the thoughtless throng;
And of their toils for others fain would tell,
And celebrate their virtues in my song.
For who can say, how many nameless ones,
With busy hands, have toiled from year to year;
To gather, one by one, these moss-grown stones,
To raise the arch and build the massive pier.
With busy hands, have toiled from year to year;
To gather, one by one, these moss-grown stones,
To raise the arch and build the massive pier.
Who fashioned first the spade, the axe, the knife,
The tools man needs where'er his feet may roam?
Who taught mankind the arts that cherish life,
And fill with comforts many a happy home?
The tools man needs where'er his feet may roam?
Who taught mankind the arts that cherish life,
And fill with comforts many a happy home?
Who laid the State's foundations firm and deep,
That winds and waves might not its strength o'erthrow;
That the full river might its channel keep,
And man's strong passions still their bounds might know?
That winds and waves might not its strength o'erthrow;
That the full river might its channel keep,
And man's strong passions still their bounds might know?
Forgotten mid the conquerors of old,
Whose deeds have filled the annals of our race;
Their names proud History has never told,
Nor midst its heroes found for them a place.
Whose deeds have filled the annals of our race;
Their names proud History has never told,
Nor midst its heroes found for them a place.
For peaceful ends they lived, and toiled, and died,
For ends unto themselves perhaps unknown;
But to the future is the past allied,
Nor without purpose raised the smallest stone.
For ends unto themselves perhaps unknown;
But to the future is the past allied,
Nor without purpose raised the smallest stone.
If high and safe o'er Time's deep, swelling flood,
They have prepared a pathway for mankind;
Which has its current and its rage withstood,
How great the work which they have left behind!
They have prepared a pathway for mankind;
Which has its current and its rage withstood,
How great the work which they have left behind!
And shall not we, as o'er Time's bridge we move,
The builders' skill, and strength, and toil admire;
And, moved alike by gratitude and love,
To nobler deeds and nobler lives aspire?
The builders' skill, and strength, and toil admire;
And, moved alike by gratitude and love,
To nobler deeds and nobler lives aspire?
Poem No. 173; c. 6 April 1867
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