In a secluded glen, the speaker comes upon a waterfall lit by sun filtering through leaves. The boom, foam, and flash strike him as a kind of magic symphony, and the place feels almost sacred. His first response to imagining loggers is a shudder: hard men will cut the patriarchal trees, and the silver spray will be turned to gold. But then his mood shifts strangely. A gladness wakes in him until he genuinely welcomes the “screaming saws” drowning out the idle water’s chime. He decides that his jealous visions of preserving the scene were only steps toward the great place where trees and torrents ultimately go. That final destination is left mysterious, which keeps the ending more meditative than bitter. The speaker does not simply condemn industry; he feels its pull as part of the landscape’s fate. The mood moves from enchanted awe through dread to a solemn, uneasy acceptance of change.
The Torrent — Summary
I found a torrent falling in a glen Where the sun's light shone silvered and leaf-split; The boom, the foam, and the mad flash of it All made a magic symphony; but when I thought upon the coming of hard men To cut those patriarchal trees away, And turn to gold the silver of that spray, I shuddered. Yet a gladness now and then Did wake me to myself till I was glad In earnest, and was welcoming the time For screaming saws to sound above the chime Of idle waters, and for me to know The jealous visionings that I had had Were steps to the great place where trees and torrents go.