As though
the river were
a floor, we position
our table and chairs
upon it, eat, and
have conversation.
As it moves along,
we notice—as
calmly as though
dining room paintings
were being replaced—
the changing scenes
along the shore. We
do know, we do
know this is the
Niagara River, but
it is hard to remember
what that means.
Kay Ryan, the sixteenth Library of Congress’ Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry, has published a book of poetry with its title taken from her poem The Niagara River. The Niagara Falls Poetry Project has received permission to post this poem.
Pleasant, peaceful, quiet river, Limpid, constant, onward ever, Gentle waters roll away ; Calm as summer, bright as morning, Not a look, or sign of warning, Naught of danger dost thou say, But gliding along, mild and strong, To the Rapids. Then Sporting, murm'ring, tossing, splashing, Storming, raving, crossing, dashing, Troubled waters fret away ; Hasting, pushing, staving, darting, Islands mad'ning thee to parting, Yet thy tumult cannot stay; But, tearing along, mad and strong, To the chasm. Then Curving, bending, bursting, breaking, Sliding, leaping, rushing, quaking, Flying waters dart away ; Flashing, sparkling, wailing, rumbling, O'er the brink an ocean tumbling, To a world of foam and spray, Fierce shooting along, proud and strong, We see thee now In Stately grandeur, awful wonder, Hear thy voice in terms of thunder; Falling waters roar away, Pouring, showering, misting, streaming, Rob'd in rainbow colors beaming, Deck'd by Sol's, or Luna's ray, Swift plunging along, grand and strong, To the bottom. Then Foaming, boiling, surging, thrashing, Breaching, swelling, heaving, crashing, Furious waters foam away, Babbling, roaring, brawling, curling, Gurgling, wailing, whisking, whirling ; Fanciful thy currents play, Still pressing along, bold and strong, Dimpling, pouting. Then Gathering, kissing, whispering, hushing, Panting, smiling, frisking, rushing, Lovely waters roll away ; Winding, eddying, purling, playing, Lakeward still, and never staying, Rustling on thy shining way ; Free coursing along, calm and strong, Soon to mingle With Ontario's tideless waters— Long to be thy prison quarters ; Noble river die away. But I err, a poet's blunder, Still I hear thy deaf'ning thunder ; Here thou art, and here must stay World-wide wonder, mighty, strong Niagara !
Source: J.B. Waid. Variety : Poetry and Prose. Montreal : J. Lovell, 1872. Waid, born 1804, was (self?)styled The Bard of Niagara
The Niagara River and Falls, showing the Schoellkopf Power Plant (left) and the Ontario Power Plant (at base of Horseshoe Falls). Image courtesy of Niagara Falls Public Library
How many ages did it thunder
This gathering of four inland seas,
Rushing onward to the ocean,
Through a maze of forest trees?
Three hundred years have come and gone
Since Hennepin recorded the scene,
“It was like an Alpine torrent” he wrote
How glorious it must have been.
In and along this winding river
History has been made,
Indians fighting for their country
White men for fame and trade.
The once great barrier now is harnessed,
To give home owners heat and light,
But in its primeval solitude
It was a wondrous sight.
Now there is no dense forest,
No bear, wolf or bounding deer,
But the meandering Niagara river,
Brings joy all through the year!
Source: RG 18, Women’s Literary Club of St. Catharines Fonds, 1892-1996, Brock University Archives, Brock University. [1978?]
Elsie Stevens was an active member of the Women’s Literary Club of St. Catharines for many years.
A note on the date: Stevens refers to 300 years “since Hennepin recorded the scene.” Hennepin was in Niagara in December, 1678.
in the rising plume
of a million mirrors glinting
with sunlight
as the ever-wall
of water fell
like a trick of curtains
and hidden doors
she was gone.
From our table rock view
we scanned the vast
crescent down
to where rapids eased
into churned foam
and there
bare-rolling to the surface
she bobbed
shaking her feathers out
bowing the fish in her beak
to the light.
The Cormorant by Keith Inman. Read by Oliver Porteus
Source: The Author, 2019
Inman‘s favourite lit class was in Ireland (on Joyce); best reading, a cafe in Spain; coolest invite, LA; most interesting editor, from Malta (NY based). Keith started writing over 30 years ago, attending writing courses and programs through Niagara libraries and institutions. His work has won multiple awards and grants. Two of his books, ‘The War Poems’, and ‘SEAsia’, both from Black Moss Press, can be found in major libraries across North America and in Europe. Home is Thorold, where ships climb the continent.
See Niagara’s torrent pour over the height, ‡‡How rapid the stream! how majestic the flood
Rolls on, and descends in the strength of his might, ‡‡As a monstrous great frog leaps into the mud!
Then, see, o’er the waters, in beauty divine, ‡‡The rainbow arising, to gild the profound ― The Iris, in which all the colours combine, ‡‡Like the yellow and red in a calico “gownd!”
How splendid that rainbow! how grand is the glare ‡‡Of the sun through the mist, as it fervently glows,
When the spray with its moisture besprinkles the air ‡‡As an old washerwoman besprinkles her clothes!
Then, see, at the depth of the awful abyss, ‡‡The whirlpool careering with limitless power,
Where the waters revolve perpetually round. ‡‡As a cooper revolves round a barrel of flour!
The roar of the waters! sublime is the sound ‡‡Which forever is heard from the cataract’s steep!
How grand! how majestic! how vast! how profound! ‡‡Like the snore of a pig when he’s buried in sleep!
The strong mountain oak and the tall towering pine, ‡‡When plunged o’er the steep with a crack and a roar,
Are dashed into atoms ― to fragments as fine ‡‡As a pipe when ‘t is thrown on a hard marble floor!
And O! should some mortal ― how dreadful the doom!― ‡‡Descend to the spot where the whirlpool carouses,
Alas! he would find there a rocky tomb, ‡‡Or, at least, he’d be likely to fracture his “trowsers!”
