Select poems / by L.H. Sigourney [electronic resource]

NIAGARA.

FLOW on forever, in thy glorious robe Of terror and of beauty. Yea, flow on Unfathom'd and resistless. God hath set His rainbow on thy forehead: and the cloud Mantled around thy feet. And he doth give Thy voice of thunder, power to speak of Him Eternally—bidding the lip of man Keep silence—and upon thine altar pour Incense of awe-struck praise.

Earth fears to lift The insect-trump that tells her trifling joys Or fleeting triumphs, 'mid the peal sublime Of thy tremendous hymn. Proud Ocean shrinks Back from thy brotherhood, and all his waves Retire abash'd. For he hath need to sleep, Sometimes, like a spent laborer, calling home His boisterous billows, from their vexing play,

To a long, dreary calm: but thy strong tide Faints not, nor e'er with failing heart, forgets Its everlasting lesson, night nor day. The morning stars, that hail'd creation's birth, Heard thy hoarse anthem, mixing with their song Jehovah's name; and the dissolving fires, That wait the mandate of the day of doom To wreck the earth, shall find it deep inscrib'd Upon thy rocky scroll.

The lofty trees That list thy teachings, scorn the lighter lore Of the too fitful winds; while their young leaves Gather fresh greenness from thy living spray, Yet tremble at the baptism. Lo! yon birds, How bold they venture near, dipping their wing In all thy mist and foam. Perchance 'tis meet For them to touch thy garment's hem, or stir Thy diamond wreath, who sport upon the cloud Unblam'd, or warble at the gate of heaven Without reproof. But, as for us, it seems Scarce lawful, with our erring lips to talk Familiarly of thee. Methinks, to trace Thine awful features, with our pencil's point Were but to press on Sinai.

Thou dost speak Alone of God, who pour'd thee as a drop

From his right-hand,—bidding the soul that looks Upon thy fearful majesty, be still, Be humbly wrapp'd in its own nothingness, And lose itself in Him.