We went down to the new Gulley Bridge to check it out and bless it. I said a few words of thanks to Maria and to Ed Gulley, our wonderful friend and the first bridge builder. I said I hoped this bridge would have as good and long a life as the first one.
I dug out this poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. It is just how I feel about the bridge. Maria is proud and happy about it. Ours bridge is smaller than his, but we have the same feelings about it.
I stood on the bridge at midnight,
As the clocks were striking the hour,
And the moon rose o’er the city,
Behind the dark church tower.
I saw her bright reflection.
In the waters under me,
Like a golden goblet falling
And sinking into the sea.
And far in the hazy distance
On that lovely night in June,
The blaze of the flaming furnace
Gleamed redder than the moon.
Among the long, black rafters
The wavering shadows lay,
And the current that came from the ocean
Seemed to lift and bear them away;
As sweeping and eddying through them,
Rose the belated tide,
And, streaming into the moonlight,
The seaweed floated wide.
And like those waters rushing
Among the wooden piers,
A flood of thoughts came o’er me
That filled my eyes with tears.
How often, O, how often,
In the days that had gone by,
I had stood on that bridge at midnight
And gazed on that wave and sky!
How often, O, how often,
I had wished that the ebbing tide
Would bear me away on its bosom
O’er the ocean wild and wide!
For my heart was hot and restless,
And my life was full of care,
And the burden laid upon me
Seemed greater than I could bear.
But now it has fallen from me,
It is buried in the sea;
And only the sorrow of others
Throws its shadow over me.
Yet whenever I cross the river
On its bridge with wooden piers,
Like the odor of brine from the ocean
Comes the thought of other years.
And I think how many thousands
Of care-encumbered men,
Each bearing his burden of sorrow,
I have crossed the bridge since then.
I see the long procession
Still passing to and fro,
The young heart was hot and restless,
And the old subdued and slow!
And forever and forever,
As long as the river flows,
As long as the heart has passion,
As long as life has woes;
The moon and its broken reflection
And its shadows shall appear,
As the symbol of love in heaven,
And it’s a wavering image here.”
— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
