The Poetry Corner

The Old Bridge At Florence

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Taddeo Gaddi built me.I am old, Five centuries old.I plant my foot of stone Upon the Arno, as St. Michael's own Was planted on the dragon.Fold by fold Beneath me as it struggles.I behold Its glistening scales.Twice hath it overthrown My kindred and companions.Me alone It moveth not, but is by me controlled, I can remember when the Medici Were driven from Florence; longer still ago The final wars of Ghibelline and Guelf. Florence adorns me with her jewelry; And when I think that Michael Angelo Hath leaned on me, I glory in myself.