The Bridge of Sighs

Where the lamps quiver
So far in the river,
With many a light
From window and casement,
From garret to basement,
She stood, with amazement,
Homeless by night.

The bleak wind of March
Made her tremble and shiver;
But not the dark arch,
Or the black flowing river:
Mad from life's history,
Glad to death's mystery
Swift to be hurled--
Anywhere, anywhere
Out of the world.

In she plunged boldly--
No matter how coldly
The 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!