The Old Bridge At Florence

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Taddeo Gaddi built me. I am old;
Five centuries old. I plant my foot of stone
Upon the Arno, as St. Michael's own
Was planted on the dragon. Fold by fold
Beneath me, as it struggles, I behold
Its glistening scales. Twice hath it overthrown
My kindred and companions. Me alone
It moveth not, but is by me controll'd,
I can remember when the Medici
Were driven from Florence; longer still ago
The final wars of Ghibelline and Guelf.
Horence adorns me with her jewelry;
And when I think that Michael Angelo
Hath lean'd on me, I glory in myself.