Man never with puny arm
My power shall curb,
My flow disturb!
Ha! ha! for nature's charm:
Powerful in the rock
That human strength doth mock!
Long as stern Father Time
Shall harvest future years—
Garnering joys and tears—
In every land and clime:
So long shall I from the moss-clad steep,
Bubble or vaunt in the foaming leap!
II.
THE CASCADE HUMBLETH ITSELF.
Under the dams I go,
With sullen plash,
And humbled dash,
On giant wheels below,
That proudly turn where huge fires burn,
Mocking the sunset glow!
As the "feeders" I enter,
High windows shake,
And brick walls quake,
Deep to their very centre,
While I painfully sob to the taunting throb
In the heart of my mill tormentor.
Afar up the arid hill,
Huger wheels are turning—
Fiercer fires are burning—
The mountain torrent is still!
And I mourn me now for the thicket's green
In the grove where our surging line was see.
Man with his stalwart arms,
Plying the axe and spade—
Reft the grove of its shade,
Dissolving nature's charms;
With genius to plan it blasted the granite,
As involving the earthquake's aid.
Nothing of freedom now I know!
For the glare of the brick,
The machinery click,
And the mist from the wheels below,
Blindeth and stunneth—I faint—I reel.
I yield my charm to the spell of steel!