Niagara by Wallace Bruce

Proud swaying pendant of a crystal chain,
    On fair Columbia's rich and bounteous breast,
With beaded lakes that necklace-like retain
    Heaven's stainless blue with golden sunlight blest!
What other land can boast a gem so bright!
    With colors born of sun and driven spray - 
A brooch of glory, amulet of might,
    Where all the irised beauties softly stray.
Ay, more - God's living voice, Niagara, thou!
    Proclaiming wide the anthem of the free;
The starry sky the crown upon thy brow,
    Thy ceaseless chant a song of Liberty.
But this thy birthright, this thy sweetest dower,
    Yon arching rainbow - Love still spanning Power.

Source: Myron T. Pritchard. Poetry of Niagara. Boston: Lothrop Publishing Co., 1901

The Falls of Niagara by John G. C. Brainard

The thoughts are strange that crowd into my brain
When I look up to thee.      It would seem
As if God pour'd thee from his "hollow hand,"
And hung his bow upon thine awful front;
And spoke in that loud voice, which seem'd to him
Who dwelt in Patmos for his Saviour's sake,
"The sound of many waters;" and had bade
Thy flood to chronicle the ages back,
And notch His cent'ries in the eternal rocks.

Deep calleth unto deep.    And what are we,
That hear the question of that voice sublime?
Oh! what are all the notes that ever rung
From war's vain trumpet, by thy thundering side!
Yea, what is all the riot that man makes
In his short life, to thy unceasing roar!
And yet, bold babbler, what art thou to Him
Who drown'd a world, and heap'd the water far
Above its loftiest mountains? - a light wave,
That breaks, and whispers of its Maker's might

Source: Fourth Book of Lessons for the Use of Schools. Armour & Ramsey, 1845

Originally published in the Connecticut Mirror of Hartford, Connecticut

A Sabbath at Niagara by Dr. Baxley

Here, near the temple of Almighty God,
The soul, wrapp'd in humility, bows down
In awe and reverence. 'Tis meet that man,
The creature, beholding the bold displays
Of power stupendous, wisdom infinite,
Should look, through nature's grandest witness, up
To nature's God.   And deeming here all time
A Sabbath, yet on this day appointed
Holy to Him who rear'd these rocky walls,
Buttress'd below by tide-wash'd massive piles,
Entablatured with beetling battlements
And corniced with a waving wilderness
Of verdure, - who outspread yon azure roof,
Now softly mellow'd with ethereal tint,
Or darken'd by the thunder's messenger,
Gilded anon by lightning's gleams, or now
Radiant with starry hosts, whose mirror'd beams
Carpet the billowy floor with silvery light, - 
Who raised yon altar, and now upon its brow
Of emerald, in characters of light,
Inscribed, e'en with his own right hand, "To God!"
Where ministering birds, with notes attuned
To an eternal anthem, hymn his praise,
And bear on dewy wings a pearly cloud
Of incense up toward the Almighty's throne,
Fit worshippers in nature's holiest fane, - 
Who guards the portals of this sacred place
With ever-heaving sea of snowy foam,
Whose tempest voice to man presumptuous calls,
"Thus, and no farther, shalt thou go," and points
To ceaseless whirling tides, the awful
Maelstrom of Niagara, dread emblem of 
Th' eternal doom of man, vain man, who seeks
To pass the limit of assign'd command,
And moral law, - 
                        E'en on this Sabbath day,
Here, near God's own great temple, would we bow
In humble praise and prayer; and while the lip
Rests silent, would the soul its homage give,
And favor seek; petitioning that in
The devious path of life so may we move,
That when these rocks shall melt with fervid heat,
When the rich garniture of teeming earth
Shall vanish, leaving no trace of brightness
Or of beauty to tell that it once was,
This restless tide no longer flow, and its
Deep cadence cease, when the blue dome that spans
The earth shall pale away, and radiant spheres
No longer shed abroad their hallow'd light,
Then may the hope that rests upon His word
Who ne'er was false to man, who hangs his bow
Upon the cloud, and spreads it night and day
Upon his altar's incense, token to man
Alike of His redeeming power and will, - 
Then may the hope that on His word relies,
Nurtured by love and rectitude, grow strong
In trust and prescience of a home "not made
With hands, eternal in the heavens!"

August 1, 1847

From Johnson, F.H. Guide to Niagara Falls and Its Scenery. Philadelphia: George W. Childs, 1864.

Originally from the register of the Point View Garden.

Dr. Baxley was from Baltimore.

Niagara by Henry Austin

Splendour supreme of constant majesty,
Of towering passion, overpowering charm,
At last, mine eyes behold thee as thou art -
In all the lightness of thy moving grace;
In all the whiteness of thy soaring spray;
In all the brightness of thy might!

                At last,
Mine ears drink in thy voice miraculous,
O plunging mountain full of thundersongs
Defiant or triumphant, echoing aye
Through vasts of day and night!
                        O Shape beyond
All winged imagery of magic words
Most musical, by ancient bards bequeathed
To spell the hearts of ever-coming men,
At last, I grasp, I clasp thee; and my soul,
Struck speechless in thy Cavern of the Winds,
Breathlessly burns with sharp, voluptuous ache
To dash herself against thy torrent breast
And join the awful Angels of thy fall
Perpetual on the crags of Agony -
Victorious Agony of glorious doom!

O perilous bridge 'mid gusts of dazzling pearl,
Or where a diamond storm enshrouds the way.
Thou seem'st like Life a span 'twixt Day and Night;
For tho' eternal rainbows crown the rocks,
Halos of Hope, charmed circles of high Faith,
Commanding entrance through the chasms of Doubt,
To deeps of nobler knowledge and soul-strength,
Yet all this beauty overwhelms the mind
By clash of contrast with our littleness.


                        So, Heart of Mine,
Oh! Heart of All, stand up and take the sun!
Seize, for 't is thine, thy sovereignty of Light!
Night with her pale Infinitude of Stars,
Nor Ocean, nor the Mountains, nor e'en Thou,
Niagara, with all thy loveliness,
Can match, in possibilites of growth
To Power, to Beauty, to Sublimity,
That noblest Mystery, the Soul of Man.

Source: Myron T. Pritchard, comp. Poetry of Niagara. Boston: Lothrop Publishing Co., 1901