Horseshoe Falls, Niagara by Sir James E. Alexander. Hand tinted by Erna Jahnke. Courtesy Niagara Falls Public Library
All hail, Niagara! by thine awful noise, Great fear is caused in minds of little boys;
And as thou rollest with thy mighty rumble,
All must acknowledge that thou mak’st a tumble. “A thing of beauty is a joy forever;”
And in that way thou certainly art clever.
Source: Table Rock Album and Sketches of the Falls and Scenery Adjacent. Buffalo: Steam Press of Thomas and Lathrops, copyright by Jewett, Thomas & Co.,1856c.1848
This link takes you to the scanned version of the 1855 version of Table Rock Album from the Hathi Trust
Niagara – here Nature holds its sway,
While man, with both delight and awe, doth
Gaze and wonder at its magnificence.
Source: Table Rock Album and Sketches of the Falls and Scenery Adjacent. Buffalo: Steam Press of Thomas and Lathrops, copyright by Jewett, Thomas & Co.,1856c.1848 (Click for Table of Contents)
Also published in the anthology Porteus, Andrew C. Niagara Mornings. Niagara Falls, Ont. Grey Borders Press, 2016 (Click for Table of Contents)
Boz was a pseudonym often used by Charles Dickens. Dickens visited Niagara Falls in April, 1842. It is likely, but not certain, that Dickens penned this verse, although no date was given for it.
This is Jehovah’s fullest organ strain! ‡‡I hear the liquid music rolling, breaking.
From the gigantic pipes the great refrain ‡‡Bursts on my ravished ear, high thoughts awaking!
The low sub-bass, uprising from the deep, ‡‡Swells the great paean as it rolls supernal —
Anon, I hear, at one majestic sweep ‡‡The diapason of the keys eternal!
Standing beneath Niagara’s angry flood — ‡‡The thundering cataract above me bounding —
I hear the echo: “Man, there is a God!” ‡‡From the great arches of the gorge resounding.
Behold, O man, nor shrink aghast in fear! ‡‡Survey the vortex boiling deep before thee!
The Hand that ope’d the liquid gateway here ‡‡Hath set the beauteous bow of promise o’er thee!
Here, in the hollow of that Mighty Hand, ‡‡Which holds the basin of the tidal ocean,
Let not the jarring of the spray-washed strand ‡‡Disturb the orisons of pure devotion.
Roll on Niagara! great River King! ‡‡Beneath thy sceptre all earth’s rulers, mortal,
Bow reverently; and bards shall ever sing ‡‡The matchless grandeur of thy peerless portal!
I hear, Niagara, in this grand strain ‡‡His voice, who speaks in flood, in flame, and thunder —
Forever, mayst thou, singing, roll and reign — ‡‡Earth’s grand, sublime, supreme, supernal wonder.
Source: Severance, Frank H. Old Trails on the Niagara Frontier. Buffalo: The Matthews-Northrup Co., 1899
Aerial view showing Niagara Falls, NY on the left, with refineries lining the Niagara River. Photo by Andrew Porteus, 2004
All the restaurants are named Betty’s
The water is turquoise blue, deep and cool
Niagara Falls, NY
Driving towards the falls on the scenic Parkway
The scene on the left is deep turquoise blue
Unlike water anywhere else in the world
A river as wide as a lake, forests of trees
The scene to the right is chemical factories
And rusted warehouses, and inlets or outlets of water
That sit sick in the stomach of history
Billboards saying mesothelioma
Clinging from Buffalo
To the boarded up windows
That line Niagara St.
And welcome you into
What used to be
A wonder of the world
Horseshoe Falls, circa 1895 by George Barker. Library of Congress
All must confess who view this wondrous scene,
That if God were not, this had never been;
His voice here thunders in the mighty flood,
And these rent rocks proclaim, their maker God.
I love the dullness of the Cataract’s roar,
And the wild grandeur of its craggy shore,
I love to look upon the gulf below,
Foaming and white like wildly-drifting snow;
I love to watch the cloud-like mists that rise,
To pay their weeping homage in the skies,
And when the blazing orb of day burns low,
I love to gaze upon the glorious bow,
And mark the beauties of that “bridge where time,
“Of light and darkness, forms an arch sublime,”
These wonders calm the passions of the mind,
And waken thoughts that leave the world behind.
I love to linger till the envious night,
Draws for her dark curtain o’er the gorgeous sight,
And when again the “balmy hour of rest,”
Returns, soft soother of the world distress’d,
The Cataract’s roar shall lull me to repose,
And slumber shut the door of mem’ry on my woes.
Source: Western Literary Messenger, July 1849. p232
