William H. Davies
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.
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