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The Waterfall.
Nichol's Creek.

Along the wooded glen to where the creek
  Brings down the mountain's music to the plains,
  I come to hear a sermon and a song
  From Nature's tuneful throat, which ever tells
God's living truths to mortals who have ears
To drink the sacred sounds.
Above my head
Umbrageous plants in wild luxuriance grow
On either side, and stretch across the gorge
To tie the hills in leafy knots of love.
Through foliage thick, of varied-tinted green,
Rich-feathered foresters, in wildest glee,
Chirp, trill, and twitter.
Ferns of every shade,
'Broider'd and scollop'd 'yond the power of art,
In tens of thousands deck the rocky walls
That hold the mountains back against the sky,

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And give the fluent stream an open course
To bring its sweetness to the lands below.
And now, with admiration, I behold
A shower of molten silver falling down
An em'rald moss-clad precipice of rock,
That stands a buttress to the central steep
Where range links range in strong volcanic chain,
Forged in the olden times; and as I gaze
Up through the argent spray-mist and the leaves
My spirit listens to the cascade's song:

"Falling, falling,
Streaming, teeming,
  I am the child of the sun and the snow;
Falling, falling,
Ocean is calling,
  Rolling along to its bosom I go.

"A white virgin up on the hill-tops was dreaming,
  A golden-haired king saw the couch where she lay;
Her heart melted soon when his bright eye was beaming;
  She gave me to him, but I've wandered away.
Gliding, hiding,
Springing, singing,
I am the child of the sun and the snow;
Falling, falling,
Ocean is calling,
Rolling along to its bosom I go.

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"I am the offspring of brightness and purity,
  Of chastity cold, and of passionate love;
Whirling along to the depths of futurity,
  And bearing God's messages down from above.
Glancing, dancing,
Sweeping, leaping,
  I am the child of the sun and the snow;
Falling, falling,
Ocean is calling,
  Rolling allong to its bosom I go.