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About This Poem
The Bridge At Midnight Trembles
The bridge at midnight trembling in its deathly, dying sigh
It's deep, despairing dreaming of daylight hour’s remembring
All the lovers and the others who passed below and who passed by.
The night so deathly quiet.
The streets with ne'er a soul.
The waters flowing by it,
The air so chill and cold.
The night sky, too, is dark and silent like the death that hovers over all,
Peppered by a trillion stars a winking, like a twinkling, blinking shawl.
As all the town is sleeping and in their nightly death remain;
Very soon the sun comes peeping to bring the world to life again.
Then the bridge no longer trembles when the streets are full of folk,
When the river babbles by it with its bright and cheery boats,
To the streets the children playing, their laughter like a morning song,
The buses, trains a rustling as they are rumbling along.
Ten thousand shoes a marching like ten thousand drops of sun,
A thousand voices in the dawn a yawning:
Yes. A new day has begun.
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