I stood within a vision's spell;
I saw, I heard. The liquid thunder
Went pouring to its foaming hell,
And it fell,
Ever, ever fell,
Into that invisible abyss that opened under.
I stood upon a speck of ground;
Before me fell a stormy ocean.
I was like a captive bound;
And around
A universe of sound
Troubled the heavens with ever-quivering motion.
Down, down forever - down, down forever,
Something falling, falling, falling,
Up, up forever - up, up forever,
Resting never,
Boiling up forever,
Steam-clouds shot up with thunder-bursts appalling.
A tone that since the birth of man
Was never for a moment broken,
A word that since the world began,
And waters ran,
Hath spoken still to
man -
Of God and of Eternity hath spoken.
. . . . . .
And in that vision, as it passed,
Was gathered terror, beauty, power;
And still, when all has fled, too fast,
And I at last
Dream of the dreamy
past,
My heart is full when lingering on that hour.
Source: Myron T. Pritchard, comp. Poetry of Niagara. Boston:
Lothrop Publishing Co., 1901.
