| |
| FAR in the realm of Arctic night, | |
| Where flames the weird auroral light, | |
| And icebergs loom on every hand, | |
| Enchanters of that lonely land, | |
| The patient, dark-skinned Esquimaux | 5 |
| A little grave shapes in the snow. | |
| |
| And o’er the ice-plain, bleak and wild, | |
| The mourning mother bears her child, | |
| In furry garments softly rolled, | |
| Who ne’er again shall feel the cold, | 10 |
| And lays him on the icy breast | |
| To take his last and final rest. | |
| |
| And there beside the little mound | |
| The father slays his fleetest hound, | |
| A creature of unerring skill, | 15 |
| Of keenest scent and docile will, | |
| To trace far haunts of seal and bear | |
| That stock the little ice-hut there. | |
| |
| He lays the faithful beast and brave | |
| Low down beside his baby’s grave, | 20 |
| And says: “The little one will stray, | |
| Through night and darkness far away; | |
| His tender feet have never trod, | |
| And cannot find the path to God. | |
| |
| “Now guide him safe from night and cold | 25 |
| Far out to realms of purest gold, | |
| Where flowery meads and crystal streams | |
| Are smiling in the sun’s glad beams, | |
| Where rise abodes of joy and mirth | |
| And feasting fills the happy earth.” | 30 |
| |
| Consoled the parents homeward wend, | |
| And leave their baby to the friend | |
| Who for protection and defence | |
| Has proved a gentle Providence, | |
| Sure that the dog so true and wise | 35 |
| Will find the gates of Paradise. | |
| |
| O love that would outrun the tomb | |
| And light your darlings through the gloom! | |
| O simple faith that deems love’s care | |
| Can be a joy and solace there; | 40 |
| Ye cling to each untutored soul, | |
| And bind the tropics to the pole! | |
| |
