| Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900. |
| Thomas Hood. 1798–1845 |
| 654. The Bridge of Sighs |
| ONE more Unfortunate, | |
| Weary of breath, | |
| Rashly importunate, | |
| Gone to her death! | |
| Take her up tenderly, | 5 |
| Lift her with care; | |
| Fashion'd so slenderly | |
| Young, and so fair! | |
| Look at her garments | |
| Clinging like cerements; | 10 |
| Whilst the wave constantly | |
| Drips from her clothing; | |
| Take her up instantly, | |
| Loving, not loathing. | |
| Touch her not scornfully; | 15 |
| Think of her mournfully, | |
| Gently and humanly; | |
| Not of the stains of her, | |
| All that remains of her | |
| Now is pure womanly. | 20 |
| Make no deep scrutiny | |
| Into her mutiny | |
| Rash and undutiful: | |
| Past all dishonour, | |
| Death has left on her | 25 |
| Only the beautiful. | |
| Still, for all slips of hers, | |
| One of Eve's family— | |
| Wipe those poor lips of hers | |
| Oozing so clammily. | 30 |
| Loop up her tresses | |
| Escaped from the comb, | |
| Her fair auburn tresses; | |
| Whilst wonderment guesses | |
| Where was her home? | 35 |
| Who was her father? | |
| Who was her mother? | |
| Had she a sister? | |
| Had she a brother? | |
| Or was there a dearer one | 40 |
| Still, and a nearer one | |
| Yet, than all other? | |
| Alas! for the rarity | |
| Of Christian charity | |
| Under the sun! | 45 |
| O, it was pitiful! | |
| Near a whole city full, | |
| Home she had none. | |
| Sisterly, brotherly, | |
| Fatherly, motherly | 50 |
| Feelings had changed: | |
| Love, by harsh evidence, | |
| Thrown from its eminence; | |
| Even God's providence | |
| Seeming estranged. | 55 |
| Where the lamps quiver | |
| So far in the river, | |
| With many a light | |
| From window and casement, | |
| From garret to basement, | 60 |
| She stood, with amazement, | |
| Houseless by night. | |
| The bleak wind of March | |
| Made her tremble and shiver; | |
| But not the dark arch, | 65 |
| Or the black flowing river: | |
| Mad from life's history, | |
| Glad to death's mystery, | |
| Swift to be hurl'd— | |
| Anywhere, anywhere | 70 |
| Out of the world! | |
| In she plunged boldly— | |
| No matter how coldly | |
| The rough river ran— | |
| Over the brink of it, | 75 |
| Picture it—think of it, | |
| Dissolute Man! | |
| Lave in it, drink of it, | |
| Then, if you can! | |
| Take her up tenderly, | 80 |
| Lift her with care; | |
| Fashion'd so slenderly, | |
| Young, and so fair! | |
| Ere her limbs frigidly | |
| Stiffen too rigidly, | 85 |
| Decently, kindly, | |
| Smooth and compose them; | |
| And her eyes, close them, | |
| Staring so blindly! | |
| Dreadfully staring | 90 |
| Thro' muddy impurity, | |
| As when with the daring | |
| Last look of despairing | |
| Fix'd on futurity. | |
| Perishing gloomily, | 95 |
| Spurr'd by contumely, | |
| Cold inhumanity, | |
| Burning insanity, | |
| Into her rest.— | |
| Cross her hands humbly | 100 |
| As if praying dumbly, | |
| Over her breast! | |
| Owning her weakness, | |
| Her evil behaviour, | |
| And leaving, with meekness, | 105 |
| Her sins to her Saviour! |
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