About Arthur William Fisher

Niagara by Arthur William Fisher
Portrait of Arthur William Fisher


Dr. Arthur W. Fisher was born at Pultneyville, New York, on February 14, 1872, and received his preliminary education at the cobblestone school in that village. When 17 he entered Sodus Academy, from which he graduated in June 1892. The following Fall he entered the Marion Collegiate Institute to prepare for Cornell University, which he entered in 1894, graduating four years later with the degree of Bachelor of Arts. He took a post-graduate course at Cornell and received his Ph.D. degree.

He taught for several years, and in 1905 entered the Medical School at Ann Arbor, Mich., from which he graduated with the degree of M.D. He remained at the college where he did research work in the laboratories, making several chemical discoveries. After leaving Ann Arbor he went to Toledo, Ohio, where he became the head of the faculty of the medical school. In 1914 Dr. Fisher came to his home town to resume active practice. He contributed to “Medical World” and wrote a series of poems which appeared in book form under the titles of “Lake Breezes,” “Land Breezes,” and “Niagara and Other Poems.”

From an obituary supplied by his nephew, Philip C. Fisher, May 2003.

Niagara Falls Coat of Arms
Niagara Falls Coat of Arms. Used with permission of the City of Niagara Falls.

On May 15, 2006 The Corporation of the City of Niagara Falls was granted a new Coat of Arms, including the motto “Tread the Smoother Ways of Peace.”  This motto was taken from Dr. Fisher’s poem Niagara,  which the Canadian Heraldic Authority found on this website.  From the description:

Motto
“This sentence is taken from Dr. Arthur William Fisher’s poem Niagara, published in 1924. As Niagara Falls is the most famous border city in Canada, this alludes to the peaceful relationship with the United States, valued particularly in a region that saw terrible battles in the War of 1812. This motto can serve as an exhortation to all citizens to advance the cause of peace.”

Dr. Fisher’s poem Niagara

Niagara by Arthur William Fisher

Niagara by Arthur William Fisher
Portrait of Arthur William Fisher
                        I

NIAGARA, how charms thy name
    Resounding from thy high walled sheer!
How sweet thy water's far acclaim
    That bursts upon my pricking ear!
How beams my eye with kindling flame
    As to thy presence I draw near,
Where beautied grandure's falling swell
Weaves still time's awful, mystic spell!

I gaze at thee from nearest shore,
    Close by the impending brink,
In wonder at thy fearful pour
Of waters, til, amazèd more
    Than I can tell or think,
I only see thy mist's fine shower
    That wafts upon these walls,
And vision dim that mighty Power,
    The Great Spirit of the Falls.

                    II

But lo ! up stream, in fitful dream,
    The rolling, rumbling rapids roar,
And toss and tilt and turn and teem,
And gurgle in their cascades' gleam
    From isle to isle and isle to shore;
        And oft repeat the dazzling feat,
Display their leaping wonders more,
Rush round the rocks with flaring locks,
Lead as bellweathers do their flocks,
    While through their tree-trimmed way they pour,
        These bounding waters, fleet, more fleet,
To gather in one onward rush
    Adown their troubled, rocky bed,
And struggle, straggle, gurgle, gush,
    To follow where their leaders led;
        But panting now for breath,
            They stagger to the edge
            Of overhanging ledge,
        Fearing the plunge beneath;
When forth in foam their fellows come,
Cheering and jeering the faltering and fearing,
Till onto the precipice they rush with a roar,
Exulting and leaping, as comrades before;
Yet staring, stumbling, crashing, crumbling,
    As host with host o'erpowering,
Each glistening wight of air commingled,
    They fall in gulf devouring;
Or, flaring, flashing, darting, dashing,
    To break as gleaming snow,
While splitting, splashing, gnawing, gnashing
    Upon the rocks below;
Whence o'er the heights their spirits towering,
Sweeping, swaying, rising, lowering,
    Rejoin the ceaseless flow,
That with recurring, falling shock,
    Born on the wind's bluff blast,
Wears e'er amain the shelving rock,
    And undermines aghast.
    There as by mighty hand,
A cavern forms, carved by the storms
    Of vexed spray's pelting wave;
    And in that rocky cave
Rough columns stand with altar grand;
    While fittingly conforms
The spray-worn dome and bowlder pave,
Round which reëcho e'er a stave
    Of wailing wind's weird band;
And there before the cavern door,
Attended with intoning roar,
    E'er falls the Bridal Veil
    And sweeps the filmy rail,
Which now through Bridal Hall are fanned,
Now screen that Wind's Cave from the land. 
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Niagara Falls by John Coveney

The left hand pocket of my old blue denim jeans
Hold coins from three nations
Cents dimes and pennies
Laughter hides the sheer glimpse
Of a trail echoed in geography of Kent
Even plain fields belie the modern journey
Syndicated music follows in our wake
Announcing our arrival in neon lit cascades
Lived in motels stale facades heavy with its own faded thirst
A living promise of being the first

The left hand pocket of my old blue denim jeans
Hold coins from three nations
Cents dimes and pennies
Late arrivals barred from splendid thoughts
Neon men let you walk to the late night store
Full of unsleepable teens
Packaged dreams enclosed in plastic wraps
Music louder beyond the hands of an older leather jacket
Sleep will bring the dawn
Then wake and follow the throngs on the same worn lawn

Glorious morning filled with youth watching
In awe and disbelief nature in splendour charging
Smooth aged mist nurturing rocks
Dressed each day in bright new frocks
Freedom to roam without locks
Nature dressed as always in new clothes
Even in your veil your beauty shows

The left hand pocket of my old blue denim jeans
Hold coins from three nations
Cents dimes and pennies

Source: The author, 2006

The Siege of Fort Erie by J.M. Harper

Sir Gordon holds the frontier line — all honour to his name —
Save only the stronghold to the south, near by Niagara’s stream —
Fort Erie of dismal remembrance, far up from the cataract,
Which the foe has strengthened all anew, since last it was attacked;
And as he thinks of the laurels won, on the field of Lundy’s Lane,
He fain would have the place re-ta’en, ere ends the year’s campaign.

That fort had fallen, the invader’s prize, a month or so before,
An easy prey to General Brown withstanding Britain’s power;
But amplified and girt around, as a citadel may be
A menace it stands to Drummond’s braves, who would the country free;
And its demilunes and bastioned wall, its batteries all in train,
Are his to seize in England’s name, her prowess to sustain.

And still, of a summer’s day, the book lies open to our hand,
As we linger amid the ruins, its tales to understand.
In the light and shade of the landscape, dotted o’er with homestead cheer,
We still may trace how the besiegers came to test the arts of war.
From the lintel-stone of some ruined keep, we may dream of the bloodstained din,
In the open field or round the walls, where mastery sought to win.

Who says the rival nations think to end their long-drawn feud?
Has any one heard in the ravelin such tiding there intrude?
Nay, rather, Sir Gordon is on his way, past the cataract’s echoing roar,
Awaking the hamlets, one by one, with nought but the tidings of war,
See, yonder, is where his army lay, beyond gun-range of the fort,
Prepared to dare every danger that lurked in its garrisoned court!

And the August sunsets come and go, like fringes of tragedy,
With bastion responding to battery, to the throbbing of woodland and lea;
While Sir Gordon is ever evolving his plans, to compass the place about,
In a nearer approach to its front and rear, from ravelin to redoubt;
And when he learns of Dobbs’ success, he decrees a night attack,
With three of his trusty colonels, the assault in line to make.

        ’Tis Fisher commands the wing to the right:
            ’Tis Towson’s he seeks to beset;
        And its twenty-four pounder greets his advance,
            From its ominous parapet.
        Will he dare these throbs of disaster?
            Will he reach the edge of the lake,
        Where under or over the palisades,
            An inner attack he may make?
        Yea, his courage will dare, whate’er the despair,
            All blasts from that cavern of wrath,
        As he keeps hovering near, his comrades to cheer,
            Amid the turmoil of death.
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Apostrophe to Niagara by Horace Dresser

Below Table Rock
Below Table Rock, Drawn from nature for the Proprietor Hermann J. Meyer. Photo courtesy of Niagara Falls Public Library

I HEAR flood voices in thy cavern halls,
    Deep unto deep there uttereth grave speech;
    The sounds of torrent minstrelsy here reach
To heaven from the profound within thy walls;
Upon my deafened ear in terror falls,
    Thy roar, as of some dread volcano’s breach,
    Or ocean storm-waves hurled upon the beach!

Earth trembleth at thy passing mighty flood!
    From the unfathomed chambers of the deep,
    These voices of thy many waters keep,
In thunder-tones and grand majestic mood,
One everlasting anthem praising God!
    Thy fearful pathway leads thee o’er a steep,
    Which thou thyself alone dost dare to leap!

I feel to worship now — here from this seat,
    High o’er the beetling cliffs above the brink
    Of thy abyss, I wonder, gaze, and think : —
How restless is thy surge beneath my feet!
For ever rolling rushing on to meet
    Old Ocean’s boundless depths, for aye to sink
    Deep in oblivion, whence we mortals shrink!

Heaven archeth o’er thy gates, great deluge-born!
    With bow that sprang from world-submerging waves:
    Below its circling reach thy maddened flood here raves;
And chronicles on walls of adamant deep worn,
The years that have been since thy birth-day morn!
    For ever lost the bark that rashly braves
    The war of adverse waters — no arm saves!

Proud kings and purpled potentates of earth,
    With trophies borne in march from battle-plain,
    Where sleep the glorious dead in havoc slain,
Sound clarion loud and seek the distant hearth,
Through arch-triumphal reared at place of birth;
    How mean are they beside my monarch train,
    Thy going forth to join the Stormy Main!

Source: Swickhamer, Conrad, ed. United States Democratic Review. New Series, vol. 17, no. 6, December 1858. p. 475-476.