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THE BRIDGE.
WHERE, as a lordly dream, Glides the deep-winding stream For evermore; Calm, as in conscious strength, Bends thy majestic length, From shore to shore.
Life, in its fevered heat, Surges, with pulsing feet, Restless, above; Doomed, in its anxious flow, Like the strong tide below, Onward to move.
Strange is the motley throng! Hearts yet untaught of wrong, Thoughtless of pain, Mingle with souls accurs'd, Sands in a desert thirst — Clouds without rain.
While o'er thee and below Swift the twin currents flow, Thy form serene, Still as the shades that sleep On the reflecting deep Arches between.