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Повстречала красивое стихотворение про водопад
Niagara
by Edith Franklin Wyatt

Cool the crystal mist is falling where my song is calling, calling
Over highland, over lowland, fog-blown bluff, and bouldered shore:
Proud my snow-rapt currents leaping from Superior's green keeping,
Down from Michigan's gray sweeping toward the Rapids' eddied floor.

Rain, hail, dew, and storm cloud swing me; from the heights the hollows wring me;
Filtered clay and field silt bring me silent through the dark-breathed loam,
Down the thousand-terraced highlands till the sky-land lake beds wing me—
Flying down and down in beauty through the chasm's flocking foam.

Down from Huron, down from Erie, though the wild duck's wing grow weary,
Tribe and nation part and vanish like the spindrift haze of morn,
Fresh my full-fold song is falling and my voice is calling, calling
Down from far-poured lake and highland as I sang when I was born.

South, North, East, and West untiring speak my brother seas in splendor,
Tell their dominant desiring, claimant over coast and main.
Mine the chairing of a woman's chord immortal, of surrender—
Of the splendor of desiring, deep to give and give again.

Chord of star-fused loam and silver-surgent lake cloud's generation,
Here I sing the earth's still dreaming down my green-poured currents' length,
Voice of river-rocking valleys, rich heart plains, and heights' creation,
Clear-veiled chord that locked in you your mother's life, your father's strength.

Cool the fog-flocked mists are swinging. Soar, my dream; and silver winging,
Call my air-hung music ringing, toward the crystal-buoyed morn—
Full-fold music from the highlands, where my splendor's voice is singing.
Fresh from flooded shores and sky lands as I sang when I was born.

http://discoverpoetry.com/poems/jessie-belle-rittenhouse/the-waterfall/

Елизавета Судьина   01.02.2025 18:45   •   Заявить о нарушении