Classic Poem

From slippery slab to slab I crawl
Above the shattering waterfall.

A mist, like hopeless human prayer,
Curls in the firs and welters there.

Through them I watch descend, descend
The shuddering waters without end.

Gray tears have fallen to swell this flood,
And iron-ruddy drops like blood.

It moans, and sobs, and howls, and sings,
And whispers of heart-breaking things.

For ages it has thundered so
Into the slate-blue lake below.

Each streak of blood, each cold gray tear,
Sinks down into the sullen mere.

Sinks down, and vanishes, and dies,
Yet the lake's borders never rise.

So to God's silent heart are hurled
The sorrows of the unsuccoured world.