But ah instead thereof a darksome night
In the low grave, of all earth's joys the blight.—
I live! And in my thoughts old scenes appear.
The mighty Falls, where gazing I stood near
In happy youth, rise up in splendor bright,
When, as I gaz'd, there met my wond'ring eye
Amid the wat'ry strife the beauteous Bow,
As if brought down from its high place, the sky,
And planted deep in the thick mist below;—
God's bow of promise to the earth beneath,—