Many poems have been written about Covered Bridges. Their beauty, their history and their elegant designs had inspired many authors to write about them. I've collected a few here for your enjoyment.
Those that follow have been assembled from various sources, originally gathered by Frances Laninger, Canton, PA. I purchased her collection of covered bridge materials in May 1994.
Poems in the first set from Frances, are contained in publications, as identified herein. Poems in the second set from Frances, were published in miscellaneous documents without
Phillip C. Pierce, P.E.Email - phil at philsbridges.com
From The Bridger (Zumbrota CB Society), Winter 1998:
THE COVERED BRIDGE"At rest, at last, in shaded woods,
Wild ivy climbs its beams.
Its memories only shared by God
And one undying stream.
Whose hooves have trod these ancient planks?
What mystery would they sing?
In raging storm was sheltered here
Beggar, thief, or king?
Not long ago, great artists came,
And poets one by one.
But soon the road was overgrown;
Now even they are gone.
Though now it's only refuge to
Wild ivy, bird, and fawn,
The covered bridge has memories
To cherish from now on!"
- DEB DOYLE
The above poem was clipped by Ray Meinke
from the newspaper, GRIT, August 9, 1981.
The following material came from Frances:
This is my favorite: UNTITLED
"What stories could these bridges tell
If they could only talk?
They'd tell us of the ones who rode
And those who had to walk,
The rich, the poor.....those in-between
Who used their planks to cross,
The soldiers, farmers, businessmen
In buggies, sleighs, by "hoss",
Like sentinels these bridges stand
In spite of flood and fire,
Their rugged, stalwart strength remains
Our future to inspire."
Unknown
Howard, Andrew R., Covered Bridges of Massachusetts, a guide, The Village Press, Unionville, Connecticutt, 1978. Purported to involve opposition to Timothy Palmer's proposed bridge over the Merrimack River, published 1793:
UNTITLED
Good people all of every sort
Come grant us your attention
You must in Haverhill quick appear
And join us in convention
To Bradford town with speed we sent
Likewise unto Methuen
Who said that if the Bridge was built
It would be their undoing.
Next neighbor Emory made a stir
And had a word to say sir
Who said that if the Bridge was built
He should lose all his hay sir.
Then Amesbury people they stept forth
Their hearts were very sad sir
And said that if the Bridge went on
They'd starve to death for shad sir.
Then sudden they did make a rout
And munkyfunk much louder
And swore that if they did proceed
They'd blow it up with powder.
Unknown
Howard, Andrew R., Covered Bridges of Connecticut, a guide, The Village Press, Unionville, Connecticutt, 1985.
THE CORNWALL COVERED BRIDGE
I'm just a covered bridge that's all;
For years in this place I've stood;
Can some wish for my downfall,
Because I'm made of wood!
I've seen the years both come and go;
I've spanned this stream for years
I've stood the test of rain and snow;
I've helped both those in smiles and tears.
And now some ask to take me down,
And some to keep me here;
I don't belong to any town
But to those who hold me dear.
E.H. Hotchkiss
Jakeman, Adelbert M., Old Covered Bridges of Maine, published at "Sea Haven", Ocean Park, Maine, 1980.
AN OLD NEW ENGLAND COVERED BRIDGE
I know an old New England covered bridge
That spans a silvered, splashing, mountain stream -
A bridge whose every sturdy bolt and beam
Was made secure by men who loved their work.
A masterpiece of grace and strength they built;
And into it the village pride they put,
Insuring that all travel, hose and foot,
Might cross in safety to the farther shore.
Its tunneled length down through the aging years
The ruthless hand of progress has repelled;
And though offtimes the flood its doom has spelled,
Still stands the rugged bridge of yesterday.
Its sagging, shingled roof that leaks the rain,
Its weather-beaten walls and rumbling floor
Hold tales romantic of those days of yore
When youth was brave and maids were passing fair.
With instruments precise at their command,
And all the knowledge science may reveal,
No modern engineer, with stone and steel,
Can build an old New England covered bridge.
Unknown
Note: First published in the "Springfield (Massachusetts) Union" on October 18, 1933.
Congdon, Herbert Wheaton, The Covered Bridge, published by Vermont Books, Middlebury, VT, 1979.
THE COVERED BRIDGE
Some part of life becomes oblivion;
Something with roots deep buried in the heart
Of simple folk is lost, as one by one,
These pioneers of other days depart.
Only the country folk, whose careless tread
Endears a dusty road, can ever know
The peaceful, clattering joy of rude planks spread
Above a drowsy creek that gleams below.
Here was a refuge from the sudden showers
That swept like moving music field and wood,
And here cool, tunnelled dark when sultry hours
Danced with white feet beyond the bridge's hood...
Yet there are soulless men whose hand and brain
Tear down what time will never give again.
Anderson M. Scruggs
From Glory of Earth, by permission of Oglethorpe University, the New York Times and the author.
Kenyon, Thedia Cox, and Snow, Stan, New Hampshire's Covered Bridges, Wake-Brook House, Sanbornville, NH 1957.
ONCE UPON A TIME
A covered Bridge is more than a way to cross a stream...
It is a phoebes call to his nesting mate,
And the lisp of trees in an errant wind.
It is the spin of wheels to the rattle of boards,
And the scent of hay and rot and animal way.
It is the shadowed coign where a spider spins,
And the golden ramp where dust motes dance.
It is the tinkle of ice on a brook's warm stones.
... And the span of the years which are lost.
Michael Cole
Brydon, Norman F., The Story of New Jersey's Covered Bridges - Of Time, Fire and the River, August 1971.
MEMORIES
I think I hear faint whispers
As I cross the abandoned bridge
And climb the mountain far ahead
To reach the topmost ridge.,br>
I see the hills that lie beyond,
Then descend to the valley below,
Where sweethearts have a trysting place
As their parents long ago.
I pause to look at the tumbled bridge
With its old moss-covered rook,
And in fancy I hear again
The sound of plodding hoof.
I seem to hear the swallows
As back and forth they go,
Carrying mud to build their nests
Under the eaves so low.
Julia Alexander, Franklin, NY
COVERED BRIDGE - REFLECTIONS
Abandoned above the coursing stream
Whose currents race so heedless by
Between high banks where granite boulders gleam.
Recalling the flowing years that fly,
The quickly fading then, the urgent now,
A moment briefly noted, long forgot.
A corridor of memories that you endow
In muted shapes, where arching timbers rot
Half hidden and with shaded trusses blurred.
Footsteps muffled to my waiting ears
By dust laid deep on oaken planks now stirred
To echo thoughts long buried with the years.
Within your shadows sparked by errant beams
I walk again to find abandoned dreams.
Norman F. Brydon 1969:
Barton, Edwin M., The Covered Bridges of Columbia County,PA, Columbia County Historical Society, 1974 reprint and revision of the Edition of 1972).
BY WAY OF INTRODUCTION
We are Brothers, born 1850, we've been inseparable friends, partners,
Always ready, willing to accomodate, helping everyone in need.
But it's true, everyone succumbs to feebleness after many years,
Thus we too become worn, haggard, weak, and in danger of collapsing;
No longer being adequately equipped to perform this world's demands.
In full knowledge of our own incapabilities, we had to admit that
The elderly do not possess the necessary qualities of strength and youth.
We were certain, fully realizing all the facts before us,
That we would be replaced, removed, or worse, left to lonely decay.
But fate, often times is very kind to those of us with many friends;
And we have many friends, true friends, who were sharing our concern.
Because of this, we were spared, restored to health and given new hope.
We were granted independence from laboring and retired to peace and rest.
But imagine, we're more famous, more appreciated, and yet retired.
It's 1962, we're healthy, still together, happier, and still useful.
Come visit us, you will find us living in our same old modest home.
You see, WE ARE THE TWIN COVERED BRIDGES AT FORKS.
Richard K. Walton
Harvey, Max, The Covered Bridges of Park County, Indiana, The Wabash Valley Printing Company, Montezuma, IN, 1963.
I AM THE COVERED BRIDGE
I am the covered bridge, out of reach of the city's turmoil
By day, with the hum of factories and the traffic's grind,
By night, with its thousand lights and its busy rushing throng;
Far out from these I span the narrow stream, or wide,
The quiet babbling water, or the turbulent creek
Fed by the meadow brook of my domain;
My designers and builders, craftsmen in the art of mortise and tenon,
Shaping together timbers, cut and hewn from the banks of the creek I span,
Timbers doweled together without noise of hammer and nail:
I am the covered bridge!
At dawn or noon hour, or in the sunset's glow,
I am a symbol of protection from the stream below;
My lot is not so uneventful, quite contrariwise;
The creek, its flower-brocaded banks, cool air, blue skies,
At night, fluorescent glow of fireflies like sapphires rise and fall,
The whirring of owl wings, a cricket symphone, a night bird's call;
I wait for these, and wait to help a traveler on his way
To wedding march, or funeral pall;
I am the covered bridge!
Don A. Williams, March, 1959
Blenheim Covered Bridge - 125th Anniversary, North Blenheim, 1980.
COVERED BRIDGE AT BLENHEIM
The axmen felled the towering pines
That once on Blenheim's knolls
Sentinels stood for all the vale.
Where old Schoharie rolls.
Hewn by hands no defter knew
Till arch from shore to shore
Held suspense this wooden bridge
One Hundred years and more.
The fiercest storms of wind and snow
Its sturdy frame has stood;
Nor ice, nor flood, nor thunder's flash
Has reft this span of wood.
Behold this bridge! A wooden span!
Chiseled from forest tree
And yoked by sled from hills afar
For the trestled bridge you see.
Just as you cross to Blenheim town
As the scene comes back to me
When the tollman old stood at the gate
Waiting his crossing fee.
Behold, also, the paved road
And the motor trucks speed by!
See how the timbers shake and creak
And trembling tell you why.
This wooden bridge for ox and cart
Chiseled from forest tree
Ruthlessly doth Time displace
As soon He'll replace thee.
Frank James
Blenheim Covered Bridge - 125th Anniversary, North Blenheim, 1980.
BLENHEIM ALBUM NUMBER TWO
Our album open! Come & See!
"What! Won't you waste a line on me?"
Write but a thought, a word or two,
That memory may revert to you.
The leaves of our album are all too few--
Time did not permit us to ask thee,
Be Patient,
We will soon come calling on you,
For the leaves of our Album Number Three.
When the names that we write here are dim on the pages,
And the leaves of your album are yellow with age,
Still think of us kindly, and do not forget
That wherever we are, we remember you yet.
Unknown
Blenheim Covered Bridge - 125th Anniversary, North Blenheim, 1980.
OH! BLENHEIM BRIDGE!
Oh! Blenheim Bridge!
Old Covered Bridge!
You speak to us of days gone by--
Of days more peaceful and serene
With time for folks their craft to ply.
Oh! Blenheim Bridge!
Our wooden bridge!
We see each large and sturdy beam,
Built by an early builder wise
To recreate an old-time scene.
Oh! Blenheim Bridge!
Our ancient bridge!
We realize this is your day!
We've come from far to honor you
And view with pride your old-time way.
Oh! Blenheim Bridge!
Our treasured bridge!
You are of all of us a part;
For lo! a century has past
And left your presence in each heart.
Marion Taylor Rickard, 1980
The following poems were contained in the scrapbooks of Frances Laninger, purchased by Phil Pierce in 1994.
THE BRIDGE BUILDER
An old man going a lone highway
Came at the evening cold and gray
To a chasm vast and deep and wide.
The old man crossed in the twilight dim;
The sullen stream had no fears for him
But he turned when safe on the other side
And built a bridge to span the tide.
"Old man," said a fellow pilgrim near
"You are wasting your time with building here.
You never again will pass this way
Your journey will end with the closing day;
You have crossed the chasm deep and wide;
Why build you this bridge at eventide?"
The builder lifted his old gray head
"Good friend in the way that I've come," he said,
"There followeth after me today
A youth whose feet must pass this way,
This stream that has been as naught to me
To the fair-haired youth might a pitfall be.
He, too, must cross in the twilight dim;
Good friend, I am building the bridge for him."
Unkown
THE OLD COVERED BRIDGE
The old covered bridge over Sycamore Creek
Still stands, as it did long ago,
A shelter in storm to a traveler and horse
From rain and sleet and snow.
What memories it brings of a time now long past,
When things moved more safely and slow,
The motorist now zips through the old covered bridge,
Intent on how har he can go.
They are passing away, the old covered bridges,
To ones of concrete and steel,
But dreams that were made in the old covered bridge
To the old folks will ever be real.
Unknown
THE COVERED BRIDGE
They stood all 'round our country
In, the days of long ago
Spanning creeks and rivers
Covered bridges, -- high and low.
They were built of hand-hewn timbers
Put in place by brawny men,
Roofs were over to protect them
From the weather's snow and rain.
The traffic that they then supported
Was, at first, that drawn by horse,
Rumbling wagons, dainty buggies,
And a few rough carts, of course.
But a hundred years brings changes,
Bridges now need wider be,
Heavier, too, the type of traffic
So steel bridges were a need.
Soon the lovely covered bridges
Were passe, and left to rot,
That they were a part of history
All too soon man had forgot.
No more historic covered bridges?
How can we our past peruse
If we cannot see the likeness
Of the things our fathers used?
But not so in Montour County,
Keefer Bridge has been restored,
Once again the Chillesquaque
Now is spanned by beam and board.
Lovely in its restoration
"The Covered Bridge of Keefer Mill"
Reminds us of the past we treasure,
A heritage that is ours still.
Mae Hackenburg
A BRIDGE RESTORED
A new red bridge now stands where long ago
The first strong covered bridge was put in place
A structure strong, with hand-hewn beams and logs
Spanning the CHILLESQUAQUE WITH ITS RUSTIC GRACE.
But years of use, and storms all took their toll
And the old covered bridge was safe no more,
Now, thanks to folks who really , truly care
Old "Keefer Covered Bridge" has been restored.
A lovely bridge, --authentic and unique,
A monument to days that used to be,
Helping all those who come to visit here
To live again a page in history.
Mae Hackenburg
COVERED BRIDGE
The covered bridge that spans the creek.
Built many years ago,
Has seen so many changes and
So many waters flow.
As horse and wagons clopped along
Upon the wooden planks,
This bridge watched many happy sights
Along the river banks.
Wildflowers blooming lavishly
Birds flying toward the sky,
Chipmunks and rabbits scampering,
And lovers strolling by.
It's seen much joy and happiness,
It's witnessed war and strife,
But now its old and growing gray,
It has passed the prime of life.
A new highway by-passes it,
You'd think its work was done,
But that is not the case at all,
It's work has just begun.
Folks drive by to see it now
And watch the water flow,
And marvel at the life span
The bridge of long ago.
Flowers still bloom lavishly,
And lovers still stroll by,
The bridge is painted red now,
To catch the eyes of passers by.
Charlotte Murphy, Williamsport
or Billie McCoy
I am unsure of the original author.
COVERED BRIDGES
Does anyone build covered bridges now?
They used to mark the country here and there,
Not leaping streams, wide open to the air,
With gallant masonry arched like a brow
Above the water's eye. You hushed, somehow,
Your chatter as the horse-hoofs plodded in,
Thumping the boards, all shadowy but for thin
Bright rays the loosened shingles might allow.
A child could lean out from the carriage seat
And see through ill-set floors the river's trend,
The shaken dust; knee-deep, a docile cow,
Or, far ahead, a picture framed and neat;
The sunny outer world at shadow's end...
Does anyone build covered bridges now?
Jennie Pendleton Hall
ANCIENT BRIDGE
Though weather-worn, it sits there
In dignity and charm--
The ancient bridge of childhood
That led to Grandpa's farm.
It used to like the rainstorms
And never minded dust;
Somehow though that's different
From aching boards--and rust.,br>
Do you think it remembers
Young lovers' Sunday walk?
The joy of moonlight hayrides--
The laughter and the talk?
Does it recall the wagons
With pumpkin piled sky-high
On the way to market
For sweet November's pie?
Though weather-worn, it sits there,
As if awaiting sound
Of young, impatient hoof-beats
Upon the frozen ground.
June Bacher, 1922 South Juniper, Escondido, CA 92025
GRANDPA'S TALE OF A COVERED BRIDGE
Why did they cover the bridges
In the horse and buggy day?
Well now, to tell the truth, lad,
I never did hear them say;
It may have been for protection
From the rain and winter snows;
It may have been for a shelter,
I suppose nobody knows.
Whatever were their intentions
When the builders did their part,
Those old-time covered bridges
Have a warm place in my heart.
'Twas in the spring, of eighty-three,
When I was a callow youth,
I was a-courtin' the county belle,
And laddie, I'd learned the truth;
She was the only girl I knew
That I'd ask to be my wife;
But to reach the poppin' point--
I couldn't to save my life!
I was an awkward, bashful lad--
They were common in those days--
Hitty hadn't encouraged me,
Bein' trained to proper ways.
We were out one day a-riden'
Behind my smart Morgan mare,
When a sudden shower o'ertook us,
But not a whit did I care,
I'd bought me a new umbrella
A-hopin' for such weather;
It was wide enough to cover two--
If they sat real close together,
Well--what did the blasted wind do
But whirl freakishly about?
It hoisted that new umbrella
And turned it wrong side out!
"Oh, Tom, 'twill ruin my bonnet!"
Cried Hitty in real distress;
She wore a flowered head-gear
And full-flounced muslin dress;
"Now don't you worry, Hitty,
There's shelter over the ridge";
In less thatn thirty seconds
We were safe in the covered bridge,
I put my arm around her,
Feelin' brave and bold and free;
With fervid ardor I blurted:
"Marry, won't you Hitty me?
The bridge seemed suddenly rockin',
I was ill with shame and dread,
I turned my shocked eyes upward,
A straddle a beam o'erhead,
Sat my pesky younger brother
Laughin' in impish glee!
The rain had caught him out fishin'
And fate pulled a boner on me!
He told the tale to the neighbors,
They razed me until I was sore!
The boys all "Hittied" me plenty
'Til a fist-fight evened the score.
I shied from meetin's with Hitty
'Til a letter filled me with bliss;
She wrote: "I hope you will pardon
My boldness in writing like this;
You started to ask me a question
That day, when we fled from the rain,
I've often puzzled and wondered--
I wish you would ask me again,
Tommy, why not come over,
When you have an evening to spare,
We'll discuss the matter quite fully--
"There'll be no eavesdroppers there."
Yes, she is your grandmother Hitty--
We've never been tempted to part!
Now you know why old, covered bridges
Hold a warm place in my heart.
Inella C. Bates