"BEYOND the church there stands a bridge," The greyhead said in his thin moan, "And the river below's nor quick nor slow, And the green weed waves beside his stone." The summer's dust in curling gust Had floured me like a miller's man, And on the hot bridge-wall I leant To watch how sweet the water ran. Then all things crumbled, with a roar Mountains of waters champed and hurled; The sluices crashed and deluge flashed And spun me through a gasping world Of black and green heads breaking loose, With hideous bubbles, bolting eyes, And rage and race, and white grimace, And sidelong monstrous agonies. Then sick and scarlet wheeled the sun Above a slackened seething flood, And in red creeks poked fish with beaks, And shell-strong claws scooped the swart mud, And congregate in sharkish hate Hundreds of demon slayers basked In the mid gulf, scaled thunder-bronze, And their swift brains one victim asked. "Why, there you see the bridge again," The grey ghost said. "How time has flown! The pools lie clear this time of year, And the green weed's lazy beside his stone." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THREE SONNETS by RICHARD WILBUR BUCOLIC COMEDY: KING COPHETUA AND THE BEGGAR MAID by EDITH SITWELL THE HOMERIC HEXAMETER [DESCRIBED AND EXEMPLIFIED] by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE HABEAS CORPUS by HELEN MARIA HUNT FISKE JACKSON AN EPITAPH ON A ROBIN REDBEAST by SAMUEL ROGERS |