The White Cascade

 

What happy mortal sees that mountain now,

The white cascade that’s shining on its brow;

 

The white cascade that’s both a bird and star,

That has a ten-mile voice and shines as far?

 

Though I may never leave this land again,

Yet every spring my mind must cross the main

 

To hear and see that water-bird and star

That on the mountain sings, and shines so far.