Classic Poem

At gallop, at gallop, through storm and night!
For over the river, with well-trimmed light,
A woman her vigil doth keep.
She knows the torrent has burst its bounds,
The owl without makes boding sounds,—
That into her heart do creep.

“O-ho-o-o! O-ho-o-o!” the white owl cries;
“Your lover doth tarry long!”
Then saith the woman, as one more wise,
“The bridge is sate and strong.”

The rider has come to the river's brink,
He enters the bridge and little does think
His fearful fate so near.
A crash, and a swirl, and he meets his death;
The waters have smothered his anguished breath,
And the river flows dark and drear.

Still up by the cottage the white owl cries:
“Your lover doth tarry long!”
And she, like one in a dream, replies:
“The bridge is safe and strong.”

What terrible sound is in the skies?
“The bridge, the bridge,” she wildly cries.
(There's rest on the cottage floor).
All night in the doorway the rain doth dash,
The owl is stricken by lightning flash,
The river doth rage and roar;

While the wind goes by with a voice that saith:
“The waiting is never long.
From the land of life to the land of death
The bridge is sure and strong.”