She could not see the avalanche cascade
from foam-flecked marble rapids, being blind,
but torrents of egrets and apple blossoms played
whirlpools of nebulous beauty in her mind.
She could not hear, tumultuous mystery,
the thunderous plunge, a sea's storm-breaking crests,
crescendo of a choral symphony,
only the silence when the music rests.
But the earth beneath her trembled. She could feel
a power like perseverance, truth, or love,
the joyous lifting of a bridal veil,
a thirst fulfilled, the mist, the memory of
her teacher's cool, wet fingers like a brand,
burning that first word water in her hand.

Meryl Stratford is a poet living in Hallandale Beach, Florida.

First Published August 7, 2014 on The Society of Classical Poets website

View this poem on the Niagara Falls Poetry Project website

Here I stand ! here from the flood, raving unceasingly,
Hoarse, shrill murmurs arise; shrill as the wind, when it
Roars through the trees stripped of their foliage,
Singing its wild anthem of liberty.

With these come to the ear, ever at intervals,
Quick notes, rattling and sharp; like the artillery
Heard when a storm, driving up rapidly,
Crashes the oaks down with its thunderbolts.

Now rise, muffled in mist, rolling up heavily,
Deep tones, awfully grand, shaking the earth, as they
Swell like the low bass of the thunder-storm,
Heard by the strained ear of the listener.

Thus float over the mist ever in harmony
Three tones, joyous and free, forming Niagara's
Anthem of praise, new every moment, yet
Changeless as time, old as eternity.

Source: Putnam's Magazine, May 1868, p.538

See this poem on the Niagara Falls Poetry Project website

The Niagara Parks Commission Plaque lookout is a great place to see the upper rapids across to Goat Island. Before the Parks Commission was established the area around the falls, known as "The Front," was a nightmare of souvenir sellers, aggressive carriage drivers, having to pay fees to see the falls from the privately owned land around it, hotel employees trying to convince you to stay at their hotel, amongst many annoyances. Sir Richard Bonnycastle said The Front was "where pedlars and thimbleriggers, barkers and the lowest rulls and vilest scum of society congregate to disgust and annoy the visitors from all parts of the world, plundering and pestering them without control."