A Song at a Waterfall

Athwart the voice of a wild water,
Falling for ever,
Do I hear some song of the foam's daughter
Fairily quiver ?
Is it song of a naiad, or bee.
Or a breeze from the tree,
Haunting the cave of the wild water ?

For evermore leapeth the fall plashing
Into a pool.
And nigh me. away from the foam flashing.
Quiet and cool
Lies a hyaline gulf olive-green.
Where ferns overlean.
And boughs embower the wave washing.

In a clear hyaline, lo ! the leaves waver,
While, as a cloud,
Stones below melt in the pool-quaver :
And with the loud
Shout of the waters blithe
Mingles, airy and lithe,
A tune, like a lingering flavour-savour,

Fearless fronteth the sound-ocean.
Even as a bird
Breasting the resonant storm-motion :
Low is it heard.
Sundering soft the cold
Roar, like a gleam of gold,
Wandering warm with a mild motion :

Visiting every flower blossom,
A humming-bird ;
Floats and falls on the wind's bosom
Many a word.
'Tis ne'er a naiad who sings.
Nor aught with wings,
But a maiden fair as the foam blossom !

For now, disentangling the tree-cover,
Resteth she fair
On a stone, a mere child ; and her own lover,
All unaware
Of a heaven in her, laughs free ;
While blithe as a bee
Singing she roameth the world over.

Ah ! sweeter far than the fall roaring,
Or any wild sound,
Is the carol of thy young life pouring
Joyance around !
Yet a vanishing voice of the spring,
With a fleeting wing,
Is thine in the realm of the long roaring !

For the bee will go from the wild water,
With blossom and breeze ;
And thou, more fair than the foam's daughter,
Even as these.
Wilt fade with the hours away
From the weary play.
And the wilderinij roar of the wild water !