The Bridge Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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I stood on the bridge at midnight,
        As the clocks were striking the hour,
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 sinking into the sea.

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 seaweed floated wide.

And like those waters rushing
        Among the wooden piers,
A flood of thoughts came o'er me
        That filled my eyes with tears.