Oh, could I gaze forever on they face,
Unwearied still, thou matchless waterfall,
Whose twining spells of majesty and grace
My ardent sense bewilder and enthrall!
In all my moods thy charms‘ puissant sway
Enforce my will their master-spell to own;
My heart leaps at thy voice — or grave or gay —
And every chord is vibrant to thy tone.
So many years I have come back to stand,
With reverent awe, before thy glorious shrine —
So close and long thy lineaments I‘ve scanned —
It seemed thou should‘st grow something less divine.
I know thy face, its shifting glooms and smiles,
As cloud or sun upon thy bosom lies;
Thy wrathful guise, thy witching rainbow wiles
Can wake no more for me the sweet surprise.
I know thy voice — its terror and its glee
Have in my ear so oft their changes rung;
Nor forest winds nor anthems of the sea
Speak to my soul with more familiar tongue.
My feet have scaled thy storm-scarred battlements,
And pressed the moss most emerald with thy tears;
And still profaned thy lucent caverns, whence
The neophyte comes pale with ghostly fears. Continue reading “Niagara In Spring by William Carey Richards”