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.