Are fittest to behold in noon's broad light;
The calm untroubled river best is seen
'Neath the soft glories of the day's decline;
And ocean's grandeur with the storm-wind dwells:
All seasons, all, Niagara, are thine.
Spring drops her crown of blossoms at thy feet;
And summer veils thy trees in deepest green;
And gorgeous autumn flings his richest robe
Of gold and crimson o'er the forest scene;