RHYMING RUMINATIONS ON OLD LONDON BRIDGE. 



OH ! ancient London Bridge, 



And art thou done for ? 

 To walk across thee were a. privilege 



That some unborn enthusiasts would run for- 

 I have crossed o'er thee many and many a time, 

 And hold my head the higher for having done it ; 



Considering it a prime 

 . And rare adventure worthy of a sonnet 



Or little flight in rhyme, 

 A monody, an elegy, or ode, 

 Or whatsoever name may be bestowed 

 On this wild rhapsody of lawless chime 

 When I have done it 



How many busy hands, and heads, and hearts-^- 

 What quantities of great and little people 



As thick as shot ; 

 Some of considerable pride and parts, 



And high in their own eyes as any steeple, 



Though now forgot ! 

 How many dogs, and sheep, and pigs, and cattle, 



How many trays of hot-cross-buns and tarts, 

 How many soldiers ready armed for battle, 

 How many cabs, and coaches, drags, and carts, 

 Bearingthe produce cf a thousand marts, 

 How many monarchs poor, and beggars proud, 



Bishops too humble to be contumacious ; 

 How many a patriot many a watchman loud 

 Lawyers too honest, aye, and thieves too gracious : 

 In short, how great a number 



Of busy men 



As well as thousand loads of human lumber 

 Have past, old fabric, o'er thee ! 



How can I then 

 But heartily deplore thee ! 



Milton himself thy path has walked along, 

 That noble, bold, and glorious politician, 



That mighty prince of everlasting song ! 



That bard of heaven, earth, chaos, and perdition ! 



Poor hapless Spenser, too, that sweet musician 

 Of faery land, 



Has crossed thee, mourning o'er his sad condition, 

 And leaning upon sorrow's outstretched hand. 



