Friday, January 6, 2012

A "value for money" PSF


"Fuck this shit"


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
  Of 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, oh, 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, oh, 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,
  Have crossed the bridge since then.

I see the long procession
  Still passing to and fro,
The young heart 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 passions,
  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 its wavering image here.

3 comments:

Kettle said...

Bloody lovely, Ramon. And before 9am too! Let us all sally forth today with Longfellow in our heads.

Ramon Insertnamehere said...

Thanks Kettle.

I know Squib gets a bit grumpy about poems that rhyme but I thought "what the hell".

So - not at the cricket today?

eat my shorts said...

Umm, okay. I feel really bad doing this.

That's a lie. I don't feel bad doing this, but I know *some* of you here read my blog once in a while and if you do, you won't be able to find it because it's had a name and address change and whatnot. Google mail me if you can't find it and want to ... well, yunno, find it. But you should be able to find it if you click on my Blogger profile thingy right there. So, um. Yeah. Whatever.

Oh, and as always Ramon, schtoncking good poem. As youse were.