The Old Bridge, Ilkley
Pedal cycles, pushed by hand, or perambulators
And carriages, undescribed, for invalids
All other vehicles prohibited not permitted.
Please turn your head the while I smile.
Downstream, there’s the young boy oarsman
Navigating the rocks, skirting the stones,
The spirit of Magellan, the eye of Nelson,
In a boat fit for Chaaron to cross the Styx.
Over the trees, a castle form, impressive,
M’sieur, quel chateau magnifique?
Just the gasworks, none the less a try,
We have no other tower so commanding.
Upstream, keep your eyes centre please
Neither to right nor left stray so far,
And see the water tumbling to you over
Ten thousand thousand small thrown stones.
Look down, stand to left of a buttress
Watch the water, cleaved, lift and sweep
And as in a boat you are a sailor
Proud-prowed carried into the golden west.