THE BROOKLYN BRIDGE.
A granite cliff on either shore,
A highway poised in air;
Above, the wheels of traffic roar,
Below, the fleets sail fair;—
And in and out forevermore
The surging tides of ocean pour,
And past the towers the white gulls soar
And winds the sea-clouds bear.
A highway poised in air;
Above, the wheels of traffic roar,
Below, the fleets sail fair;—
And in and out forevermore
The surging tides of ocean pour,
And past the towers the white gulls soar
And winds the sea-clouds bear.
O peerless this majestic street,
This road that leaps the brine!
Upon its height twin cities meet
And throng its grand incline,—
To east, to west, with swiftest feet,
Though ice may crash and billows beat,
Though blinding fogs the wave may greet,
Or golden summer shine.
This road that leaps the brine!
Upon its height twin cities meet
And throng its grand incline,—
To east, to west, with swiftest feet,
Though ice may crash and billows beat,
Though blinding fogs the wave may greet,
Or golden summer shine.
Sail up the Bay with morning's beam,
Or rocky Hellgate by,—
Its columns rise, its cables gleam,
Great tents athwart the sky!
And lone it looms, august, supreme,
When, with the splendor of a dream,
Its blazing cressets gild the stream
Till evening shadows fly.
Or rocky Hellgate by,—
Its columns rise, its cables gleam,
Great tents athwart the sky!
And lone it looms, august, supreme,
When, with the splendor of a dream,
Its blazing cressets gild the stream
Till evening shadows fly.
