Old ironmasters and their iron men With northern fire, grit, enterprise began it A hundred years ago. Later, we scan it— Desolate homesteads welded into one, Hamlets grown up to towns, deep anchorages Gouged out of sand, wastes blossoming with the fierce White rose of foundries. So the pioneers Printed their work on nature's open page. Their steel made bridges from Sydney to Menai; Their ships networked the sea. Gain was in view But inch by inch out of the gain there grew A greater thing—sense of community. Bridges are for drawing men together By closing gaps. Could those rough ghosts return, They'd find a world of difference, but discern That here is the same breed of men and weather. You are bridge-builders still. Only, today You draw six towns into a visioned O, Spanning from town to town the ebb and flow Of destiny. A dream is realised. May The northern kindliness and northern pride See, as your forebears would, the future in it. Here, a new span—our lives shall underpin it And earn fresh honours for our own Teesside. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SCARECROW by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE HYSTERIA by THOMAS STEARNS ELIOT TO LIZBIE BROWNE by THOMAS HARDY AMORETTI: 15 by EDMUND SPENSER THE PLANTING by MARGARET LEE ASHLEY A SECRET SIGH by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |