Stupendous in their majesty, the maddened waters leap,
‡‡Then raging like a demon who disdains the thought of sleep,
In wild abandon o‘er the brink they toss and foam and curl —
‡‡In the great abyss they surge and sink, then down the river whirl.
A silver cloud of spray, ethereal as bridal veil,
‡‡Rolls gaily toward the shore, in misty, shimm‘ring masses pale,
When in the sun‘s clear light, revealed, are bright prismatic rays,
‡‡That scintillate in rainbow hues, enchanting all who gaze.
But when the laggard sun, has not the surging waters kissed,
‡‡Then moody old Niagara sulks, in pall of dull grey mist,
While meeting waters dash and fight, then boiling pass along,
‡‡With a deep toned voice resounding in an everlasting song.
O the tumult and the grandeur of the water as it rolls —
‡‡We marvel as we look, with exaltation in our souls;
A seething, rushing torrent flows, whose troubled heaving breast,
‡‡Through ages has not known repose, tranquility or rest.
Source: Caroline Eleanor Wilkinson. Poems That Appeal. Niagara Falls, Ont. : F.H. Leslie, Limited, Printers, 1928.