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The Old Covered Bridge

by Lewis Lamar


The covered bridge is travel-worn
By massive loads across it borne,
Its sidings once were new and fair,
But time has wrought its mischief there.
The oaken floor on duty there,
A story tells of age and wear;
Its sill is patched, and here and there
Are seen rude traces of repair.

Those rudely cut, initials show
The rustic hand of years ago.
In cuts and crayons intertwined,
And diagrams the oddest kind
On frame and gabe' and everywhere
Are seen the marks of age and wear;
And on its ragged hulk appears
The gathered dust of many years.

Its high and handy walls afford
A ready advertising board,
And gaudy bills are posted thickly
To fool the green and fleece the sickly;
There quack'ry makes a great display,
It don't "verstehen," but quacks away,
Unblushingly, for gain and pay,
And busily barters life away.

How merrily the light and gay
Have tripped across it tunnel way,
And loving once have lingered there,
Perchance the envied kiss to share.
And little feet have pattered through
This bridge so trusty aud so true;
The halt and blind, oppressed and poor
Have freely crossed its dusty floor.

This bridge has seen year after year
The emerald hue of spring appear,
And summer full of life and cheer,
As well as autumn, brown and sere:

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