Epitaph For The Jug Bridge

Across its storied arches the great
     teams used to roll.
The Conestoga wagons with six
     horses at the pole;
The coaches of the turnpike taking
     Washington to see
The great expanding country from
     the mountains to the sea,
Around its massive pillars rang the
     road of cannons too;
When the armies of the Southland
     met the armies of the Blue:
Beneath its quiet shadows carp and
     bass were wont to dwell,
And the old Virginia creeper clothed
     its walls with beauty's spell.
The old jug held its station through
     so many fateful years;
It watched the changing problems
     that created sighs or tears;
It saw the trucks and autos come
     along in all their might-
And at last its heart is broken and
     its walls have said good-night.

     — Folger McKinsey
       (The Bentztown Bard)

This poem appeared in the Sunday Baltimore Sun, April 12, 1942. (Reprinted in Battle for Jug Bridge by Joseph Collins, )