A local news item this morning informed us that the removal of the Canandaigua Road bridge will be finalized today. Sections of the bridge will be placed on a barge and floated away on the Erie Canal.
Nettie Bullis was 21 when this bridge was opened to horse-drawn and pedestrian traffic, and her brother Charlie was 23. We can imagine both of them watching the construction and marveling at the completed structure. If she were present at today's final removal, we imagine that Nettie might discreetly wipe a tear or two from her eyes and then look forward to the construction of the new, safer bridge.
Here's the rest of Longfellow's poem. Enjoy!
The Bridge
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
How
often, O, how often
In
the days that had gone by
I
had stood on the bridge at midnight
And
gaped 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
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 thoughts 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 passion
As
long as life has woes;
The
moon and its broken reflection
And
its shadows shall appear
As
the symbols of love in heaven
And
its wavering images here.
