The Poetical Works of Thomas Hood/The Bridge of Sighs
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For works with similar titles, see The Bridge of Sighs.
One more unfortunate,Weary of breath,Rashly importunate,Gone to her death!
Take her up tenderly,Lift her with care;Fashioned so slenderly,Young, and so fair!
Look at her garmentsClinging like cerements;Whilst the wave constantlyDrips from her clothing;Take her up instantly,Loving, not loathing.—
Touch her not scornfully;Think of her mournfully,Gently and humanly;Not of the stains of her,All that remains of herNow is pure womanly.
Make no deep scrutinyInto her mutinyRash and undutiful:Past all dishonor,Death has left on herOnly the beautiful.
Still, for all slips of hers,One of Eve's family —Wipe those poor lips of hers.Oozing so clammily.
Loop up her tressesEscaped from the comb,Her fair auburn tresses;Whilst wonderment guessesWhere was her home?
Who was her father?Who was her mother?Had she a sister?Had she a brother?Or was there a dearer oneStill, and a nearer oneYet, than all other?
Alas for the rarityOf Christian charityUnder the sun!O, it was pitiful!Near a whole city full,Home she had none.
Sisterly, brotherly,Fatherly, motherly Feelings had changed:Love, by harsh evidence,Thrown from its eminence;Even God's providenceSeeming estranged.
Where the lamps quiverSo far in the river,With many a lightFrom window and casement,From garret to basement,She stood, with amazement,Houseless by night.
The bleak wind of MarchMade her tremble and shiverBut not the dark arch,Or the black flowing river:Mad from life's history,Glad to death's mystery,Swift to be hurled—Anywhere, anywhereOut of the world!
In she plunged boldly,No matter how coldlyThe rough river ran,—Over the brink of it,Picture it—think of it,Dissolute man!Lave in it, drink of it.Then, if you can!
Take her up tenderly,Lift her with care; Fashioned so slenderly,Young, and so fair!
Ere her limbs frigidlyStiffen too rigidly,Decently,—kindly,—Smooth, and compose them;And her eyes, close them,Staring so blindly!
Dreadfully staringThrough muddy impurity,As when with the daringLast look of despairingFixed on futurity.
Perishing gloomily,Spurred by contumely,Cold inhumanity,Burning insanity,Into her rest.—Cross her hands humbly,As if praying dumbly,Over her breast!
Owning her weakness,Her evil behavior,And leaving, with meekness,Her sins to her Saviour!