Sun Through the Mist at Niagara Falls by Andrew Porteus
I want to thank you for the ten seconds
When the seasons passed.
The photograph you took became a token
Of this wonderfully sad woman
You watched stare at the falls
As if she knew of the bodies it relished.
Like sun on the mist.
Rapture rolling smooth winds
Along its back, like a creature.
When she held out her arms, you imagined
Her embracing the blues and greens
Of friends and lovers who watched her as she jumped –
Afloat in fog everytime –
You thought of her skin
And how her shoulders must feel
With the spray of the river upon her.
Sketch of the testing of the cantilever bridge 1883 Courtesy Niagara Falls Public Library
Lo! Cantilever stands the test,
See! see! it bears upon its breast
Fully twenty locomotives’ weight,
Nor bends beneath the heavy freight.
See! twenty engines safely ride
Across Niagara’s seething tide –
Across the mystic iron span –
Last product of the god-like man.
“The Cantilever bridge is strong!”
Exultant shout the wondering throng.
Lo! fifty locomotives screech,
Two nations’ praise blends each with each,
Resounds the East, resounds the West,
The matchless triumph each attest.
The loud applause – the palm each yields
To Cantilever and to Fields.
Portage Around the Falls of Niagara at Table Rock, by George Catlin, 1847/1848
Niagara, I love to hear thy voice,
And while I look on thy array of waters
Careering onward with resistless force,
And showing forth all the might and power of Him
Who ruleth over all — ’tis then my soul
Is filled with awe, and I can realize
That God is here, that he is present now.
Oh! let a song of praise ascend to Him
Who gives us all things richly to enjoy,
And while we gaze upon this glorious scene,
Let us remember thou dost shadow forth
The glory of Omnipotence.
Awe-struck we gaze on these o’erhanging rocks,
And mark thy waters as they onward flow,
And hear, Niagara! thy unceasing roar.
We watch the clouds of spray as they ascend,
And view the bright inimitable green,
Too dazzling to the eye, and then we feel
That scenes like these, stupendous and sublime,
Must lose their greatness when compared with Him
Whose presence fills the immensity; then while ’tis ours
To gaze upon His works, may we be led
To worship and adore; to live for Him,
That when earth’s scenes shall fail before our eyes,
We may behold more glorious worlds above,
And through the sacrifice of Him who gave
His life for fallen man, dwell ever more
Where love, and joy, and peace forever reign.
New York, August 12, 1847.
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
The poem is written on the Famous Niagara Falls when I visited it last.
Ram M. Mehta
Niagara, the Antiope of Canada,
Amazonian, but not breastless,
Snowy bosom like virginal gems,
Swelling lips moderately full,
Savory odor felt all around,
Crystalline throat striking the eyes.
Meandering, churning, darting, dashing,
Transformed from blonde to brunette,
Here, alluring, benign, attenuated,
There corpulent, colossal, capering,
Practising calisthenics all the time.
Raquel Welch in “One Million Years B.C.,”
Wily Cleopatra, the scythian of Ordzhonikidze
Carnal Marilyn, matured Helen of Troy.
Venus in Aries, Mars in Pisces.
Broadbellied, middleaged, deep,
Now bulging belle of Detroit,
Encircling the wooing Windsor,
Yet the Blithe spirit of Pelee Island.
Last spring I was commissioned by the Burlington Art Centre to write a series of poems for their involvement in the province wide – The Water Project. One of the artists (Donna Ibing ) created an installation called Niagara II – a large ink and woodcut replication of the American Falls. Very powerful indeed – the ‘Falls’ took up a huge portion of the wall space given to the exhibition!
The poem was also inspired by a dream I had about Niagara Falls and the poet/short story writer Raymond Carver. Here is an excerpt from my notes on the project:
The night before my first meeting with the curator of the Burlington Art Centre – George Wale, I dreamt I traveled to Niagara Falls to visit an Open House. A house (apparently) owned by the American poet and short story writer, Raymond Carver. In the dream I take off my shoes and walk in. Other visitors are milling about. It is quite dark inside. I am drawn to the back of the house. It is lighter there and I hear an ever-thundering whoosh! When I reach the end of the house there is no wall. It is completely open. A small backyard and beyond that, the American Falls: stand water awed in Ray’s backyard. No fences. No barriers. The view is breathtaking. I wake up.
A few hours later I am sitting in George’s office. While explaining The Water Project, he proceeds to rummage through his papers to show me some of the artists’ work. The first image he shares with me is Ibing’s Niagara II. I am speechless. There on paper is my dream. Whoosh!
A New Path to the Waterfall was Raymond Carver’s last book. A book of poetry written during the last year of his life, he died of cancer in 1988.
