Niagara
Roar of the flood,
A rock-wraith weird in the mist,
A bow of light,
The waters that curve and twist
At the base of the height,
And through it all,
The soul's still voice
And its ceaseless call.
A rock-wraith weird in the mist,
A bow of light,
The waters that curve and twist
At the base of the height,
And through it all,
The soul's still voice
And its ceaseless call.
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