London Bridge

Frederic Edward Weatherly (1848–1929)

PROUD and lowly, beggar and lord,

Over the bridge they go;

Rags and velvet, fetter and sword,

Poverty, pomp, and woe.

Laughing, weeping, hurrying ever,

Hour by hour they crowd along,

While, below, the mighty river

Sings them all a mocking song,

Hurry along, sorrow and song,

All is vanity ’neath the sun;

Velvet and rags, so the world wags,

Until the river no more shall run.

Dainty, painted, powdered and gay,

Rolleth my lady by;

Rags-and-tatters, over the way,

Carries a heart as high.

Flowers and dreams from country meadows,

Dust and din through city skies,

Old men creeping with their shadows,

Children with their sunny eyes,—

Hurry along, sorrow and song,

All is vanity ’neath the sun;

Velvet and rags, so the world wags,

Until the river no more shall run.

Storm and sunshine, peace and strife,

Over the bridge they go;

Floating on in the tide of life,

Whither no man shall know.

Who will miss them there to-morrow,

Waifs that drift to the shade or sun?

Gone away with their songs and sorrow;

Only the river still flows on.

Hurry along, sorrow and song,

All is vanity ’neath the sun;

Velvet and rags, so the world wags,

Until the river no more shall run.