Niagara

Ho, Spirit! I am with thee now;
My stride is by the rushing brow,
The mist is round me while I bow.

By summer streams, by land and sea,

Niagara, I have yearned to thee,

And dreamed what thou wouldst say to me.

In spells of vision I have stood,
And with the turmoil of thy flood
Have struggled into brotherhood.

The hour is mine; the dream is gone;
The sleep of Summer streams is done;
And I am by thy side alone.

The hour is mine; I feel thy spray;
I press along thy rainbow way;
God help my throbbing heart to-day.

The hour is mine; my feet are near;
I falter not, but wrestle here;
Eternal words are in mine ear.

I falter not; I feel the whole;
The mysteries of thy presence roll
In waves of tumult o'er my soul.

I merge myself, my race, my clime,
And as I tread thy paths sublime,
I seem to stand alone with Time;

To stand, all lost, with Time alone;
He makes thy sullen roar his own,
An infinite sad monotone:

Majestic dirge of strifes and sighs;
The voices of the year that rise
Between the two eternities:

Forever new, forever old,
Forever one, yet manifold,
Forever what all time hath told.