Image courtesy of the Library of Congress
I STOOD on the hanging cliff, and saw
…The river bend and fall
With the ocean’s deep and hollow roar,
…With a constant thunder call.
The polished emerald arch broke out
…In fleece as white as snow,
That flashed a moment in the sun,
…Then sank in chaos below.
I listened to Niagara’s voice,
…And heard the central fire,
Poised on earth’s axle, loose its chains
…And war its fierce desire.
The pewit’s plaintive silver note,
…The cricket’s autumn crone,
The whispering wind, and talking leaves,
…Were hushed in the master tone.
Within that horrible chasm, wide
…The caldron boiled in white
Confusion, chaos of seething foam,
…Obscure as blackest night.
Out of this gulf the river ran,
…So narrow still and deep,
My fancy saw it as a great
…Green serpent, slowly creep.
My frightened vision shrank from it,
…My feet turned back to fix
Themselves upon the solid earth,
…And fly this creeping Styx.
“Niagara, Niagara !
…The hand of God,” I cried,
“Alone could break thy stream in foam,
…And hurl thy rushing tide.
“His hand alone could bend thy peace
…Above, to headlong zest
Against the rocks, and down the gulf,
…To find below thy rest.”
“His hand alone could rend the rocks,
…And guide thy course to wide
Ontario, thence to the gray
…Old ocean’s boundless tide.”
“Earth’s mountains have their mystery,
…The seas their dreary waste
Of waters, sad as Sahara’s sands ;
…The clouds their stormy haste ;—”
“Among the mountains man exults,
…He fearless ploughs the waves,
Stamps on the sands, laughs at the winds
…From out his castle caves;—”
“But on thy banks he feels his pride
…And power are but a straw,
Before thy awful majesty,
…And thy resistless law.”
” Let Danube boast her ancient name,
…The Rhine her castle walls,
The Seine and Thames their cities’ pride—
…But on thy forehead falls”
“A crown of beauty and of power
…Above them all; before
Thy awful face the man is blind,
…And dumb amid thy roar.”
I wooed the green still earth again,
…There saw one wild rose spread
Its crimson in the morning air,
…Its perfume faintly shed ;—
Then reverently I plucked the rose,
…And from the sloping bank
I dropped the red leaves in white foam,
…And down the abyss they sank.
The Father of Floods, my peace offering
…Gave back to me again,
In bending his rainbow over the abyss,
…And in his snowy train.
Now evermore, as the years go by,
…Niagara’s flood and roar,
Will come to me with the tender grace
…Of summer seas on the shore.
Source: I.D. Van Duzee. By the Atlantic: Later Poems. Boston: Lee and Shepard, 1892, p. 247-250.