The stormiest sea that tossed,
Was the passage-at-arms—no, the passage-at-legs,
Of the bridge that never was crossed.
A wind that withers wherever it goes,
And biting as winter frost;
Is the icy blast that constantly blows
From the bridge that never was crossed.
What folly for mortals to travel that way,
As many have found to their cost—
To tempt the terrors by night or by day