text:  Poetry might liken it to the mere frothy foam of the infant cataract when it gushes out of the breast of the mountain to the rising sun which arrested by an intense frost ere it can fall in the very act of evanishing there hangs still hangs the mere air-bubbles congealed into crystal vesicles defying all the force of the mounted sun to dissipate their delicate white beauty evanescent as it _looks_