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| Yes, I have some very good memories of time spent along the river bank. I lived on Boyle Avenue then where I was
born. I was not allowed to venture.near the river alone until I was eleven or twelve years old. My favorite spot
in those days was in the area of the Hillary Street Bridge. I would stand on the bridge looking for water bugs,
frogs, fish, turtles or anything else that might be in the water.They were easily seen, but hard to catch in my
net.When I did catch something to take home it was usually just a matter of keeping it for a short time and then
putting it back in the river.A couple of years ago, I went back to that area and stood on the bridge where I had
gone as a boy. It made me wonder if boys still came there to do what I did. After returning home and reminiscing
about those days, I wrote the following poem. |
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A recent picture of the Hillary Street Bridge taken by Walter Johnson
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"THE AGE OF TIME"
I am standing on a bridge where I often stood
many years ago as a young boy.
Old planks that were splintered with rot are gone
They creaked and clattered then.
Now the solid lumber under my feet does not
even whisper.
The moment resounds in memories of a life that
long ago looked for fish and turtles
here in the water below.
A reflectrion of my shadow, once seeming bright
in anticipation, is now rippled and bleak, as if
a caustic web held it there.
The blue sky above with white clouds appears to be the same,but my sense of time has changed.
I capture it now in the bloom of an effervescent
sparkle of another young boy.
It only belongs to those who stand here
and gaze in wonder at the world
beneath their feet.
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Here there is humility and enchantment, from the sublime and peaceful sounds of
the water curling against the pilings.
But the swiftness of the stream cries in fury
when the rains come, and the
people say; " We are glad the old
bridge is gone."
As the age of time spins, the simplicity and
magnitude of these blessings will live forever,
and the joys and pleasures of life will
always be here, to give meaning to
the young and old who come.
Today, boy-hood will find excitement here, and his old age will gather the nectar of days past.
The beauty and time of the moment will follow
from generation to generation. And the
fragmentations of their lives will be
refreshed and renewed, set free
by the human spirit.
The water under the bridge will continue as always, to bring life, and give life to every living thing.
For it is today, just as it always has been,
and will be, endowed by God,
to retain the everlasting
seeds of tomorrow. |
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PASSAIC RIVER GREAT FALLS (PATERSON N.J.) By Walter E. Johnson
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We love to stop on our way
And pause to gaze at you,
As back and forth we travel
To the many things we do.
The pleasure that you bring us
We feel down deep inside,
For it is a special pleasure
That only you provide.
You are a source of grace and charm
Held high within a gorge,
Deep inside a bed of rock
From which you have been forged.
We cannot help but wonder
If you rose up from below,
Or did the river bed drop down
To make your beauty show ?
From the birth of God's creation
You are an awesome sight,
For all to see your beauty
And treasure with delight.
Seldom do we ever see
A free fall to compare,
With that of falling water
Descending through the air. |
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Your waterfalls cascading
In sheets of white array,
Across black fluted ledges
Highlight your great display.
The ages have long challenged
Your greatness and your fame,
But you have stood the test of time
And still remain the same.
A symbol of this city
Your water power grew,
To fashion silk and textiles
That owe their lives to you.
For you have been a substance
That gives the energy,
To help provide the power
That drives machinery.
When great majestic splendor
Displays a scene so rare,
It is a very special place
For all mankind to share.
So may your beauty always be
Admired by each one,
And may you be forevermore
Embraced by what you've done. |
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