That would not let him part.

When darkest midnight veiled the sky,
You'd hear his hasting step go by,
To gain the bridge beside the deep,
That where its wildest torrents leap
Hangs thread-like o'er the surge,
Just there, upon its awful verge,
His vigil-hour to keep.

And when the moon, descending low,
Hung on the flood that gleaming bow,
Which it would seem some angel's hand,
With Heaven's own pencil, tinged and spanned,
Pure symbol of a better land,
He, kneeling, poured in utterance free
The eloquence of ecstasy;
Though to his words no answer came,
Save that One, Everlasting Name,
Which since Creation's morning broke
Niagara's lip alone hath spoke.

When wintry tempests shook the sky,
And the rent pine-tree hurtled by,
Unblenching, 'mid the storm he stood,
And marked sublime the wrathful flood,
While wrought the frost-king, fierce and drear,
His palace 'mid those cliffs to rear,
And strike the massy buttress strong,
And pile his sleet the rocks among,
And wasteful deck the branches bare
With icy diamonds, rich and rare.

Nor lacked the hermit's humble shed
Such comforts as our natures ask
To fit them for life's daily task.
The cheering fire, the peaceful bed,
The simple meal in season spread,
While by the lone lamp's trembling light,
As blazed the hearth-stone, clear and bright,
O'er Homer's page he hung,
Or Maro's martial numbers scanned--

For classic lore of many a land
Flowed smoothly o'er his tongue.
Oft with rapt eye, and skill profound,
He woke the entrancing viol's sound,
Or touched the sweet guitar.
For heavenly music deigned to dwell
An inmate in his cloistered cell,
As beams the solem star,
All night, with meditative eyes
Where some lone, rock-bound fountain lies.

As through the groves, with quiet tread,
On his accustomed haunts he sped,
The mother-thrush, unstartled, sung
Her descant to her callow young,
And fearless o'er his threshold prest
The wanderer from the sparrow's nest,
The squirrel raised a sparkling eye
Nor from his kernel cared to fly
As passed that gentle hermit by.
No timid creature shrank to meet
His pensive glance, serenely sweet;
From his own kind, alone, he sought
The screen of solitary thought.