Then, through the silence overhead, An angel with a trumpet said, The reign of violence is o'er!" Upon the heavenly lyre its blast, And on from sphere to sphere the words Re-echoed down the burning chords, "For evermore, for evermore, The reign of violence is o'er!" THE BRIDGE. I STOOD On the bridge at midnight, 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 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 sea-weed floated wide. And like those waters rushing A flood of thoughts came o'er me 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 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 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 for ever and for ever, As long as the river flows, As long as the heart has passions, |