Taddeo Gaddi built me. I am old, <br />Five centuries old. I plant my foot of stone <br />Upon the Arno, as St. Michael's own <br />Was planted on the dragon. Fold by fold <br />Beneath me as it struggles. I behold <br />Its glistening scales. Twice hath it overthrown <br />My kindred and companions. Me alone <br />It moveth not, but is by me controlled. <br />I can remember when the Medici <br />Were driven from Florence; longer still ago <br />The final wars of Ghibelline and Guelf. <br />Florence adorns me with her jewelry; <br />And when I think that Michael Angelo <br />Hath leaned on me, I glory in myself.<br /><br />Henry Wadsworth Longfellow<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-old-bridge-at-florence/
