3569 lines
191 KiB
HTML
3569 lines
191 KiB
HTML
<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
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<!DOCTYPE html>
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<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xmlns:epub="http://www.idpf.org/2007/ops" lang="en-CA" epub:prefix="z3998: http://www.daisy.org/z3998/2012/vocab/structure/, se: https://standardebooks.org/vocab/1.0" xml:lang="en-CA">
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<head>
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<title>Songs of a Sourdough</title>
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<meta content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1" name="viewport"/>
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<link rel="canonical" href="https://standardebooks.org/ebooks/robert-w-service/songs-of-a-sourdough/text/single-page" />
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<style><![CDATA[
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@namespace epub "http://www.idpf.org/2007/ops";
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/* core.css */
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body{
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font-variant-numeric: oldstyle-nums;
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hyphens: auto;
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text-wrap: pretty;
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||
}
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p{
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margin: 0;
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text-indent: 1em;
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}
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hr{
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border: none;
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||
border-top: 1px solid;
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||
height: 0;
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||
margin: 1.5em auto;
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width: 25%;
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||
}
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||
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q::before,
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||
q::after{
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||
content: "";
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||
}
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blockquote{
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margin: 1em 2.5em;
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}
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h1,
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h2,
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h3,
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h4,
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h5,
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h6,
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hgroup{
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break-after: avoid;
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break-inside: avoid;
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font-variant: small-caps;
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hyphens: none;
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margin: 3em 0;
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text-align: center;
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}
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||
/* simulate h3 in an hgroup */
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hgroup h2 + p{
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font-size: 1.17em;
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}
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/* simulate h4 in an hgroup */
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hgroup h2 + p + p,
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hgroup h3 + p{
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font-size: 1em;
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}
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/* simulate h5 in an hgroup */
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hgroup h2 + p + p + p,
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hgroup h3 + p + p,
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hgroup h4 + p{
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font-size: .83em;
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}
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/* simulate h6 in an hgroup */
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hgroup h2 + p + p + p + p,
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hgroup h3 + p + p + p,
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hgroup h4 + p + p,
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hgroup h5 + p{
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font-size: .67em;
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}
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hgroup > *{
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font-weight: normal;
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margin: 0;
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}
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hgroup > *:first-child{
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font-weight: bold;
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}
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hgroup > p{
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text-indent: 0;
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}
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p.continued,
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h2 + p,
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h3 + p,
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h4 + p,
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h5 + p,
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h6 + p,
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header + p,
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hr + p,
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hgroup + p,
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p:first-child{
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hanging-punctuation: first last;
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text-indent: 0;
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}
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cite{
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font-style: normal;
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}
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abbr{
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border: none;
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white-space: nowrap;
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}
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blockquote cite{
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display: block;
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font-style: italic;
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text-align: right;
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}
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blockquote cite i{
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font-style: normal;
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}
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b,
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strong{
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font-variant: small-caps;
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font-weight: normal;
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}
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i > i,
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em > i,
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i > em{
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font-style: normal;
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}
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ol,
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ul{
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margin-bottom: 1em;
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margin-top: 1em;
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}
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header{
|
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break-after: avoid;
|
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break-inside: avoid;
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hyphens: none;
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text-align: center;
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}
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header > * + p{
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text-indent: 0;
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}
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article > header + *,
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section > header + *{
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margin-top: 3em;
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}
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a[epub|type~="noteref"]{
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font-size: smaller;
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font-style: normal !important;
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vertical-align: super;
|
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}
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section[epub|type~="endnotes"] > ol > li{
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margin: 1em 0;
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}
|
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/* Invert images in dark mode. RMSDK requires a target media as well as a state. */
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@media all and (prefers-color-scheme: dark){
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img[epub|type~="se:image.color-depth.black-on-transparent"]{
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filter: invert(100%);
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}
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img[epub|type~="se:image.color-depth.black-on-transparent"][epub|type~="se:image.style.realistic"]{
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background: currentColor;
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filter: none;
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}
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}
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/* se.css */
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/* This may appear in the colophon */
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abbr[epub|type~="se:era"]{
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font-variant: all-small-caps;
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}
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section[epub|type~="titlepage"] h1,
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section[epub|type~="titlepage"] p,
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section[epub|type~="colophon"] h2,
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section[epub|type~="imprint"] h2{
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left: -999em;
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position: absolute;
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}
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section[epub|type~="titlepage"] img{
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display: block;
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margin: 3em auto auto auto;
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width: 100%;
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}
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|
||
section[epub|type~="colophon"],
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section[epub|type~="imprint"]{
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text-align: center;
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}
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section[epub|type~="colophon"] header,
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section[epub|type~="imprint"] header{
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line-height: 0;
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margin-top: 3em;
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}
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img[epub|type~="z3998:publisher-logo"]{
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max-width: 25%;
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width: 220px;
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}
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section[epub|type~="colophon"] p,
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section[epub|type~="imprint"] p{
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margin: 1em auto 0 auto;
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text-indent: 0;
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}
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section[epub|type~="imprint"] p{
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font-size: smaller;
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text-align: justify;
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width: 75%;
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}
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section[epub|type~="colophon"] p + p::before{
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border-top: 1px solid;
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content: "";
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display: block;
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margin: auto auto 1em auto;
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width: 25%;
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}
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section[epub|type~="colophon"] p:nth-last-child(2) time{
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font-variant: small-caps;
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}
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section[epub|type~="colophon"] a{
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font-variant: small-caps;
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}
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section[epub|type~="imprint"] a,
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section[epub|type~="colophon"] a{
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hyphens: none;
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}
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|
||
section[epub|type~="copyright-page"] p{
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margin: 1em auto;
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text-indent: 0;
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}
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section[epub|type~="copyright-page"] blockquote p{
|
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font-style: italic;
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text-align: initial;
|
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text-indent: 0;
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}
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section[epub|type~="copyright-page"] blockquote p span{
|
||
display: block;
|
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padding-left: 1em;
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text-indent: -1em;
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}
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|
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section[epub|type~="copyright-page"] blockquote br{
|
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display: none;
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}
|
||
|
||
|
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/* local.css */
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[epub|type~="epigraph"],
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[epub|type~="epilogue"]{
|
||
font-style: italic;
|
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hyphens: none;
|
||
}
|
||
|
||
section[epub|type~="epigraph"]{
|
||
text-align: center;
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||
}
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||
|
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section[epub|type~="epigraph"] > *{
|
||
display: inline-block;
|
||
margin: auto;
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||
margin-top: 3em;
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max-width: 80%;
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||
text-align: initial;
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||
}
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||
|
||
@supports(display: flex){
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section[epub|type~="epigraph"]{
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align-items: center;
|
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box-sizing: border-box;
|
||
display: flex;
|
||
flex-direction: column;
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||
justify-content: center;
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||
padding-top: 3em;
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||
}
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||
|
||
section[epub|type~="epigraph"] > *{
|
||
margin: 0;
|
||
}
|
||
}
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|
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article{
|
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break-after: page;
|
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}
|
||
|
||
[epub|type~="z3998:poem"] p{
|
||
text-align: initial;
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text-indent: 0;
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}
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[epub|type~="z3998:poem"] p + p{
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||
margin-top: 1em;
|
||
}
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||
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||
[epub|type~="z3998:poem"] p > span{
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||
display: block;
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||
padding-left: 3em;
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text-indent: -3em;
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}
|
||
|
||
[epub|type~="z3998:poem"] p > span + br{
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display: none;
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}
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p span.i1{
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||
padding-left: 3em;
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text-indent: -2em;
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}
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p span.i2{
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||
padding-left: 5em;
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||
text-indent: -3em;
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}
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p span.i3{
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||
padding-left: 5em;
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text-indent: -2em;
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}
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p span.i4{
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padding-left: 7em;
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text-indent: -3em;
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}
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p span.i5{
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||
padding-left: 7em;
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text-indent: -2em;
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}
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p span.i6{
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padding-left: 15em;
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text-indent: -3em;
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}
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||
[epub|type~="z3998:poem"] hgroup p{
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text-align: center;
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}
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section[epub|type~="dedication"]{
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font-variant: small-caps;
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||
line-height: 1.5;
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||
margin: 3em 0;
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||
text-align: center;
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||
text-indent: 0;
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||
}
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||
|
||
|
||
/* web.css */
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body{
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display: flex;
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flex-direction: column;
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font-family: "Georgia", serif;
|
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font-size: 18px;
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margin: 0;
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line-height: 1.5;
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}
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|
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main{
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flex-grow: 1;
|
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margin: 5rem auto 3rem;
|
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max-width: 55ch;
|
||
padding: 0 3rem;
|
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width: calc(100% - 2 * 3rem); /* calc instead of box-sizing: border-box which would make max-width count padding */
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}
|
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|
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body > header{
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all: unset; /* Remove any properties set by selectors in the ebook itself */
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background: #fff;
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border-bottom: 1px solid #999;
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box-shadow: 0 0 3px #ccc;
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left: 0;
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position: absolute;
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right: 0;
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top: 0;
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z-index: 1000; /* Required so that SVGs don't scroll over the header */
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}
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body > header ul{
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align-items: center;
|
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display: flex;
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list-style: none;
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margin: 0;
|
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padding: 1em;
|
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gap: 1.5em;
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}
|
||
|
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body > header li:first-child{
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margin-right: auto;
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}
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body > header li:first-child > a{
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background: no-repeat center / 100% url("/images/logo-full.svg");
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display: block;
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font-size: 0;
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height: 42px;
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transition: transform 200ms ease;
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width: 180px;
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}
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||
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body > header li:first-child > a:hover{
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transform: scale(1.025) rotate(1deg);
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}
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||
body > footer ul{
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||
display: flex;
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justify-content: space-between;
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list-style: none;
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margin: 0;
|
||
padding: 0.5em 1em;
|
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}
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||
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||
body > footer li{
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max-width: 40%;
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}
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|
||
body > main > section[epub|type~="titlepage"],
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body > main > section[epub|type~="halftitlepage"]{
|
||
}
|
||
|
||
nav + section,
|
||
section + nav,
|
||
section + section,
|
||
section + article,
|
||
article + section,
|
||
article + article{
|
||
box-sizing: border-box;
|
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margin-top: 12em !important;
|
||
padding: 0;
|
||
}
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|
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nav[epub|type~="toc"] ol{
|
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list-style: none;
|
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}
|
||
|
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@media(max-width: 65ch){
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main{
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padding: 0 2rem;
|
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width: calc(100% - 2 * 2rem);
|
||
}
|
||
|
||
section[epub|type~="imprint"] p{
|
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width: 100%;
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}
|
||
}
|
||
|
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@media(max-width: 450px){
|
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body > header > nav > ul{
|
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flex-wrap: wrap;
|
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}
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|
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body > header > nav > ul > li > a{
|
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font-size: .8rem;
|
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}
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|
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body > header li:first-child > a{
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background: no-repeat center / 100% url("/images/logo-small.svg");
|
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width: 31px;
|
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height: 20px;
|
||
}
|
||
}
|
||
|
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@media(prefers-color-scheme: dark){
|
||
body,
|
||
body > header{
|
||
background: #222222;
|
||
color: #ffffff;
|
||
}
|
||
|
||
/* These three link colors provide WCAG AAA compliance at 16px */
|
||
a:link{
|
||
color: #6bb9f0;
|
||
}
|
||
|
||
a:active{
|
||
color: #e6cc22;
|
||
}
|
||
|
||
a:visited{
|
||
color: #dda0dd;
|
||
}
|
||
|
||
body > header li:first-child > a,
|
||
img[epub|type~="se:image.color-depth.black-on-transparent"]{
|
||
filter: invert(1);
|
||
}
|
||
}
|
||
|
||
/* As of July 2022 Chrome on Android doesn't yet understand `or (pointer: none)`
|
||
and will just drop this entire query together if it's included. */
|
||
@media(pointer: coarse){
|
||
body > header{
|
||
position: fixed;
|
||
}
|
||
|
||
body > header li:first-child > a{
|
||
height: 21px;
|
||
width: 90px;
|
||
}
|
||
|
||
nav[epub|type~="toc"] ol li{
|
||
margin-bottom: 2em;
|
||
margin-top: 2em;
|
||
}
|
||
|
||
*:target{
|
||
scroll-margin-top: 4em;
|
||
}
|
||
}
|
||
|
||
@media((max-width: 450px) and (pointer: coarse)){
|
||
body > header li:first-child > a{
|
||
width: 31px;
|
||
height: 20px;
|
||
}
|
||
}
|
||
]]></style>
|
||
</head>
|
||
<body><main>
|
||
<section id="titlepage" epub:type="titlepage frontmatter">
|
||
<h1 epub:type="title">Songs of a Sourdough</h1>
|
||
<p>By <b epub:type="z3998:personal-name z3998:author">Robert <abbr epub:type="z3998:given-name">W.</abbr> Service</b>.</p>
|
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<img alt="" 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epub:type="se:image.color-depth.black-on-transparent"/>
|
||
</section>
|
||
<nav id="toc" epub:type="toc">
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">Table of Contents</h2>
|
||
<ol>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#titlepage">Titlepage</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#imprint">Imprint</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#dedication">Dedication</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#epigraph">Epigraph</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#halftitlepage">Songs of a Sourdough</a>
|
||
<ol>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#the-law-of-the-yukon">The Law of the Yukon</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#the-parsons-son">The Parson’s Son</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#the-spell-of-the-yukon">The Spell of the Yukon</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#the-call-of-the-wild">The Call of the Wild</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#the-lone-trail">The Lone Trail</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#the-heart-of-the-sourdough">The Heart of the Sourdough</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#the-three-voices">The Three Voices</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#the-pines">The Pines</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#the-harpy">The Harpy</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#the-lure-of-little-voices">The Lure of Little Voices</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#the-song-of-the-wage-slave">The Song of the Wage-Slave</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#grin">Grin</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#the-shooting-of-dan-mcgrew">The Shooting of Dan McGrew</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#the-cremation-of-sam-mcgee">The Cremation of Sam McGee</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#my-madonna">My Madonna</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#unforgotten">Unforgotten</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#the-reckoning">The Reckoning</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#quatrains">Quatrains</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#the-men-that-dont-fit-in">The Men That Don’t Fit In</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#music-in-the-bush">Music in the Bush</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#the-rhyme-of-the-remittance-man">The Rhyme of the Remittance Man</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#the-low-down-white">The Low-Down White</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#the-little-old-log-cabin">The Little Old Log Cabin</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#the-younger-son">The Younger Son</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#the-march-of-the-dead">The March of the Dead</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#fighting-mac">“Fighting Mac”</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#the-woman-and-the-angel">The Woman and the Angel</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#the-rhyme-of-the-restless-ones">The Rhyme of the Restless Ones</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#new-years-eve">New Year’s Eve</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#comfort">Comfort</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#premonition">Premonition</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#the-tramps">The Tramps</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#l-envoi" lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">L’Envoi</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
</ol>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#colophon">Colophon</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
<li>
|
||
<a href="#uncopyright">Uncopyright</a>
|
||
</li>
|
||
</ol>
|
||
</nav>
|
||
<section id="imprint" epub:type="imprint frontmatter">
|
||
<header>
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">Imprint</h2>
|
||
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3.969%2C98.094L116.25%2C97L116.301%2C96.999C116.369%2C96.959%20116.406%2C96.937%20116.406%2C96.937L116.75%2C96.719L143.047%2C96.719L151%2C96.635Z%22%2F%3E%09%3Cpath%20d%3D%22m%2088.77419%2C52.4998%20c%20-4.66667%2C0%20-9.4386%2C3.43859%20-9.4386%2C8.8421%200%2C3.01755%202.03509%2C5.7193%205.50877%2C7.4386%203.4386%2C1.7193%206.52632%2C2.66667%206.52632%2C4.77193%200%2C2.70175%20-2.73684%2C2.8421%20-4.17544%2C2.8421%20-3.22807%2C0%20-7.08772%2C-3.26315%20-7.08772%2C-3.26315%20l%20-3.29824%2C5.54386%20c%200%2C0%204.10526%2C3.82456%2010.87719%2C3.82456%205.64912%2C0%2010.91228%2C-2.42105%2010.91228%2C-9.33334%200%2C-3.78947%20-3.54386%2C-6.52631%20-6.77193%2C-7.89473%20-3.29825%2C-1.40351%20-6.03509%2C-2.56141%20-6.03509%2C-4.17544%200%2C-1.57895%201.19298%2C-2.59649%203.4386%2C-2.59649%202.98245%2C0%205.85965%2C2%205.85965%2C2%20l%202.66666%2C-5.26316%20c%200%2C0%20-3.71929%2C-2.73684%20-8.98245%2C-2.73684%20Z%22%2F%3E%09%3Cpath%20d%3D%22m%20140.47341%2C52.4998%20-17.16363%2C0%200%2C30%2017.16363%2C0%200%2C-6%20-10.32727%2C0%200%2C-6.03637%209.89091%2C0%200%2C-6%20-9.89091%2C0%200%2C-5.96363%2010.32727%2C0%200%2C-6%20Z%22%2F%3E%3C%2Fsvg%3E" epub:type="z3998:publisher-logo se:image.color-depth.black-on-transparent"/>
|
||
</header>
|
||
<p>This ebook is the product of many hours of hard work by volunteers for <a href="https://standardebooks.org/">Standard Ebooks</a>, and builds on the hard work of other literature lovers made possible by the public domain.</p>
|
||
<p>This particular ebook is based on a transcription from <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25546">Project Gutenberg</a> and on digital scans from the <a href="https://archive.org/details/songsofsourdoug00serv">Internet Archive</a>.</p>
|
||
<p>The source text and artwork in this ebook are believed to be in the United States public domain; that is, they are believed to be free of copyright restrictions in the United States. They may still be copyrighted in other countries, so users located outside of the United States must check their local laws before using this ebook. The creators of, and contributors to, this ebook dedicate their contributions to the worldwide public domain via the terms in the <a href="https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/">CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication</a>. For full license information, see the <a href="uncopyright">Uncopyright</a> at the end of this ebook.</p>
|
||
<p>Standard Ebooks is a volunteer-driven project that produces ebook editions of public domain literature using modern typography, technology, and editorial standards, and distributes them free of cost. You can download this and other ebooks carefully produced for true book lovers at <a href="https://standardebooks.org/">standardebooks.org</a>.</p>
|
||
</section>
|
||
<section id="dedication" epub:type="dedication frontmatter">
|
||
<p>To<br/>
|
||
<abbr epub:type="z3998:given-name">C. M.</abbr></p>
|
||
</section>
|
||
<section id="epigraph" epub:type="epigraph frontmatter">
|
||
<blockquote epub:type="z3998:poem">
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>The lonely sunsets flare forlorn</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Down valleys dreadly desolate;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The lordly mountains soar in scorn,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">As still as death, as stern as fate.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span class="i2">The lonely sunsets flame and die;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i3">The giant valleys gulp the night;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i2">The monster mountains scrape the sky,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i3">Where eager stars are diamond-bright.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>So gaunt against the gibbous moon,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Piercing the silence velvet-piled,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>A lone wolf howls his ancient rune,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The fell arch-spirit of the Wild.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span class="i2">O outcast land! O leper land!</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i3">Let the lone wolf-cry all express—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i2">The hate insensate of thy hand,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i3">Thy heart’s abysmal loneliness.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</blockquote>
|
||
</section>
|
||
<section id="halftitlepage" epub:type="halftitlepage frontmatter">
|
||
<h2 epub:type="fulltitle">Songs of a Sourdough</h2>
|
||
</section>
|
||
<article id="the-law-of-the-yukon" epub:type="z3998:poem bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">The Law of the Yukon</h2>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>This is the law of the Yukon, and ever she makes it plain:</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>“Send not your foolish and feeble; send me your strong and your sane.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Strong for the red rage of battle; sane, for I harry them sore;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Send me men girt for the combat, men who are grit to the core;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Swift as the panther in triumph, fierce as the bear in defeat,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Sired of a bulldog parent, steeled in the furnace heat.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Send me the best of your breeding, lend me your chosen ones;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Them will I take to my bosom, them will I call my sons;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Them will I gild with my treasure, them will I glut with my meat;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>But the others—the misfits, the failures—I trample under my feet.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Dissolute, damned, and despairful, crippled and palsied and slain,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Ye would send me the spawn of your gutters—Go! take back your spawn again.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>“Wild and wide are my borders, stern as death is my sway;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>From my ruthless throne I have ruled alone for a million years and a day;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Hugging my mighty treasure, waiting for man to come:</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Till he swept like a turbid torrent, and after him swept—the scum.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The pallid pimp of the deadline, the enervate of the pen,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>One by one I weeded them out, for all that I sought was—Men.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>One by one I dismayed them, frighting them sore with my glooms;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>One by one I betrayed them unto my manifold dooms.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Drowned them like rats in my rivers, starved them like curs on my plains,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Rotted the flesh that was left them, poisoned the blood in their veins;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Burst with my winter upon them, searing forever their sight,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Lashed them with fungus-white faces, whimpering wild in the night;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Staggering blind through the storm-whirl, stumbling mad through the snow,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Frozen stiff in the ice pack, brittle and bent like a bow;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Featureless, formless, forsaken, scented by wolves in their flight,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Left for the wind to make music through ribs that are glittering white;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Gnawing the black crust of failure, searching the pit of despair,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Crooking the toe in the trigger, trying to patter a prayer;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Going outside with an escort, raving with lips all afoam;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Writing a cheque for a million, drivelling feebly of home;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Lost like a louse in the burning … or else in tented town</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Seeking a drunkard’s solace, sinking and sinking down;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Steeped in the slime at the bottom, dead to a decent world,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Lost ’mid the human flotsam, far on the frontier hurled;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>In the camp at the bend of the river, with its dozen saloons aglare,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Its gambling dens a-riot, its gramophones all a-blare;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Crimped with the crimes of a city, sin-ridden and bridled with lies,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>In the hush of my mountained vastness, in the flush of my midnight skies.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Plague-spots, yet tools of my purpose, so natheless I suffer them thrive,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Crushing my Weak in their clutches, that only my Strong may survive.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>“But the others, the men of my mettle, the men who would ’stablish my fame,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Unto its ultimate issue, winning me honour, not shame;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Searching my uttermost valleys, fighting each step as they go,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Shooting the wrath of my rapids, scaling my ramparts of snow;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Ripping the guts of my mountains, looting the beds of my creeks,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Them will I take to my bosom, and speak as a mother speaks.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>I am the land that listens, I am the land that broods;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Steeped in eternal beauty, crystalline waters and woods.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Long have I waited lonely, shunned as a thing accurst,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Monstrous, moody, pathetic, the last of the lands and the first;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Visioning campfires at twilight, sad with a longing forlorn,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Feeling my womb o’er-pregnant with the seed of cities unborn.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Wild and wide are my borders, stern as death is my sway,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And I wait for the men who will win me—and I will not be won in a day;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And I will not be won by weaklings, subtile, suave, and mild,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>But by men with the hearts of vikings, and the simple faith of a child;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Desperate, strong, and resistless, unthrottled by fear or defeat,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Them will I gild with my treasure, them will I glut with my meat.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>“Lofty I stand from each sister land, patient and wearily wise,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>With the weight of a world of sadness in my quiet, passionless eyes;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Dreaming alone of a people, dreaming alone of a day,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>When men shall not rape my riches, and curse me and go away;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Making a bawd of my bounty, fouling the hand that gave—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Till I rise in my wrath and I sweep on their path and I stamp them into a grave.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Dreaming of men who will bless me, of women esteeming me good,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Of children born in my borders, of radiant motherhood;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Of cities leaping to stature, of fame like a flag unfurled,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>As I pour the tide of my riches in the eager lap of the world.”</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>This is the Law of the Yukon, that only the Strong shall thrive;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>That surely the Weak shall perish, and only the Fit survive.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Dissolute, damned, and despairful, crippled and palsied and slain,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>This is the Will of the Yukon—Lo! how she makes it plain!</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</article>
|
||
<article id="the-parsons-son" epub:type="z3998:poem bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">The Parson’s Son</h2>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>
|
||
<i>This is the song of the parson’s son, as he squats in his shack alone,</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>
|
||
<i>On the wild, weird nights when the Northern Lights shoot up from the frozen zone,</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>
|
||
<i>And it’s sixty below, and couched in the snow the hungry huskies moan.</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>“I’m one of the Arctic brotherhood, I’m an old-time pioneer.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>I came with the first—O God! how I’ve cursed this Yukon—but still I’m here.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>I’ve sweated athirst in its summer heat, I’ve frozen and starved in its cold;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>I’ve followed my dreams by its thousand streams, I’ve toiled and moiled for its gold.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>“Look at my eyes—been snow-blind twice; look where my foot’s half gone;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And that gruesome scar on my left cheek where the frost-fiend bit to the bone.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Each one a brand of this devil’s land, where I’ve played and I’ve lost the game,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>A broken wreck with a craze for hooch, and never a cent to my name.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>“This mining is only a gamble, the worst is as good as the best;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>I was in with the bunch and I might have come out right on top with the rest;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>With Cormack, Ladue and Macdonald—O God! but it’s hell to think</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Of the thousands and thousands I’ve squandered on cards and women and drink.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>“In the early days we were just a few, and we hunted and fished around,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Nor dreamt by our lonely campfires of the wealth that lay under the ground.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>We traded in skins and whiskey, and I’ve often slept under the shade</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Of that lone birch-tree on Bonanza, where the first big find was made.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>“We were just like a great big family, and every man had his squaw,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And we lived such a wild, free, fearless life beyond the pale of the law;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Till sudden there came a whisper, and it maddened us every man,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And I got in on Bonanza before the big rush began.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>“Oh, those Dawson days, and the sin and the blaze, and the town all open wide!</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>(If God made me in His likeness, sure He let the devil inside.)</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>But we all were mad, both the good and the bad, and as for the women, well—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>No spot on the map in so short a space has hustled more souls to hell.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>“Money was just like dirt there, easy to get and to spend.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>I was all caked in on a dance-hall jade, but she shook me in the end.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>It put me queer, and for near a year I never drew sober breath,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Till I found myself in the bughouse ward with a claim staked out on death.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>“Twenty years in the Yukon, struggling along its creeks;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Roaming its giant valleys, scaling its godlike peaks;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Bathed in its fiery sunsets, fighting its fiendish cold,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Twenty years in the Yukon … twenty years—and I’m old.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>“Old and weak, but no matter, there’s hooch in the bottle still.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>I’ll hitch up the dogs tomorrow, and mush down the trail to Bill.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>It’s so long dark, and I’m lonesome—I’ll just lay down on the bed,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Tomorrow I’ll go … tomorrow … I guess I’ll play on the red.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>“… Come, Kit, your pony is saddled. I’m waiting, dear, in the court …</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>… Minnie, you devil, I’ll kill you if you skip with that flossy sport …</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>… How much does it go to the pan, Bill? … play up, School, and play the game …</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>… Our Father, which art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name …”</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>
|
||
<i>This was the song of the parson’s son, as he lay in his bunk alone,</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>
|
||
<i>Ere the fire went out and the cold crept in, and his blue lips ceased to moan,</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>
|
||
<i>And the hunger-maddened malamutes had torn him flesh from bone.</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</article>
|
||
<article id="the-spell-of-the-yukon" epub:type="z3998:poem bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">The Spell of the Yukon</h2>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>I wanted the gold, and I sought it;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">I scrabbled and mucked like a slave.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Was it famine or scurvy—I fought it,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">I hurled my youth into the grave.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>I wanted the gold and I got it—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Came out with a fortune last fall—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Yet somehow life’s not what I thought it,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And somehow the gold isn’t all.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>No! There’s the land. (Have you seen it?)</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">It’s the cussedest land that I know,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>From the big, dizzy mountains that screen it,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">To the deep, deathlike valleys below.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Some say God was tired when He made it;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Some say it’s a fine land to shun;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Maybe: but there’s some as would trade it</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">For no land on earth—and I’m one.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>You come to get rich (damned good reason),</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">You feel like an exile at first;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>You hate it like hell for a season,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And then you are worse than the worst.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>It grips you like some kinds of sinning;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">It twists you from foe to a friend;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>It seems it’s been since the beginning;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">It seems it will be to the end.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>I’ve stood in some mighty-mouthed hollow</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">That’s plumb-full of hush to the brim;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>I’ve watched the big, husky sun wallow</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">In crimson and gold, and grow dim,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Till the moon set the pearly peaks gleaming,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And the stars tumbled out, neck and crop;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And I’ve thought that I surely was dreaming,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">With the peace o’ the world piled on top.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>The summer—no sweeter was ever;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The sunshiny woods all athrill;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The grayling aleap in the river,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The bighorn asleep on the hill.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The strong life that never knows harness;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The wilds where the caribou call;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The freshness, the freedom, the farness—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">O God! how I’m stuck on it all.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>The winter! the brightness that blinds you,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The white land locked tight as a drum,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The cold fear that follows and finds you,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The silence that bludgeons you dumb.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The snows that are older than history,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The woods where the weird shadows slant;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The stillness, the moonlight, the mystery,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">I’ve bade ’em goodbye—but I can’t.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>There’s a land where the mountains are nameless,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And the rivers all run God knows where;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>There are lives that are erring and aimless,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And deaths that just hang by a hair;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>There are hardships that nobody reckons;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">There are valleys unpeopled and still;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>There’s a land—oh, it beckons and beckons,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And I want to go back—and I will.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>They’re making my money diminish;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">I’m sick of the taste of champagne.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Thank God! when I’m skinned to a finish</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">I’ll pike to the Yukon again.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>I’ll fight—and you bet it’s no sham-fight;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">It’s hell!—but I’ve been there before;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And it’s better than this by a damsite—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">So me for the Yukon once more.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>There’s gold, and it’s haunting and haunting;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">It’s luring me on as of old;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Yet it isn’t the gold that I’m wanting,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">So much as just finding the gold.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>It’s the great, big, broad land ’way up yonder,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">It’s the forests where silence has lease;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>It’s the beauty that thrills me with wonder,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">It’s the stillness that fills me with peace.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</article>
|
||
<article id="the-call-of-the-wild" epub:type="z3998:poem bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">The Call of the Wild</h2>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Have you gazed on naked grandeur where there’s nothing else to gaze on,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Set pieces and drop-curtain scenes galore,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Big mountains heaved to heaven, which the blinding sunsets blazon,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Black canyons where the rapids rip and roar?</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Have you swept the visioned valley with the green stream streaking through it,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Searched the Vastness for a something you have lost?</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Have you strung your soul to silence? Then for God’s sake go and do it;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Hear the challenge, learn the lesson, pay the cost.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Have you wandered in the wilderness, the sagebrush desolation,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The bunch-grass levels where the cattle graze?</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Have you whistled bits of ragtime at the end of all creation,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And learned to know the desert’s little ways?</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Have you camped upon the foothills, have you galloped o’er the ranges,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Have you roamed the arid sun-lands through and through?</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Have you chummed up with the mesa? Do you know its moods and changes?</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Then listen to the wild—it’s calling you.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Have you known the Great White Silence, not a snow-gemmed twig a-quiver?</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">(Eternal truths that shame our soothing lies.)</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Have you broken trail on snowshoes? mushed your huskies up the river,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Dared the unknown, led the way, and clutched the prize?</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Have you marked the map’s void spaces, mingled with the mongrel races,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Felt the savage strength of brute in every thew?</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And though grim as hell the worst is, can you round it off with curses?</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Then hearken to the wild—it’s wanting you.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Have you suffered, starved, and triumphed grovelled, down, yet grasped at glory,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Grown bigger in the bigness of the whole?</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>“Done things” just for the doing, letting babblers tell the story,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Seeing through the nice veneer the naked soul?</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Have you seen God in His splendours, heard the text that nature renders?</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">(You’ll never hear it in the family pew.)</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The simple things, the true things, the silent men who do things—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Then listen to the wild—it’s calling you.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>They have cradled you in custom, they have primed you with their preaching,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">They have soaked you in convention through and through;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>They have put you in a showcase; you’re a credit to their teaching—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">But can’t you hear the wild?—it’s calling you.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Let us probe the silent places, let us seek what luck betide us;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Let us journey to a lonely land I know.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>There’s a whisper on the night-wind, there’s a star agleam to guide us,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And the wild is calling, calling … let us go.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</article>
|
||
<article id="the-lone-trail" epub:type="z3998:poem bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">The Lone Trail</h2>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>
|
||
<i>Ye who know the Lone Trail fain would follow it,</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>
|
||
<i>Though it lead to glory or the darkness of the pit.</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>
|
||
<i>Ye who take the Lone Trail, bid your love goodbye;</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>
|
||
<i>The Lone Trail, the Lone Trail follow till you die.</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>The trails of the world be countless, and most of the trails be tried;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>You tread on the heels of the many, till you come where the ways divide;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And one lies safe in the sunlight, and the other is dreary and wan,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Yet you look aslant at the Lone Trail, and the Lone Trail lures you on.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And somehow you’re sick of the highway, with its noise and its easy needs,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And you seek the risk of the byway, and you reck not where it leads.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And sometimes it leads to the desert, and the tongue swells out of the mouth,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And you stagger blind to the mirage, to die in the mocking drouth.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And sometimes it leads to the mountain, to the light of the lone campfire,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And you gnaw your belt in the anguish of hunger-goaded desire.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And sometimes it leads to the Southland, to the swamp where the orchid glows,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And you rave to your grave with the fever, and they rob the corpse for its clothes.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And sometimes it leads to the Northland, and the scurvy softens your bones,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And your flesh dints in like putty, and you spit out your teeth like stones.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And sometimes it leads to a coral reef in the wash of a weedy sea,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And you sit and stare at the empty glare where the gulls wait greedily.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And sometimes it leads to an Arctic trail, and the snows where your torn feet freeze,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And you whittle away the useless clay, and crawl on your hands and knees.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Often it leads to the dead-pit; always it leads to pain;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>By the bones of your brothers ye know it, but oh, to follow you’re fain.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>By your bones they will follow behind you, till the ways of the world are made plain.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>
|
||
<i>Bid goodbye to sweetheart, bid goodbye to friend;</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>
|
||
<i>The Lone Trail, the Lone Trail follow to the end.</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>
|
||
<i>Tarry not, and fear not, chosen of the true;</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>
|
||
<i>Lover of the Lone Trail, the Lone Trail waits for you.</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</article>
|
||
<article id="the-heart-of-the-sourdough" epub:type="z3998:poem bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">The Heart of the Sourdough</h2>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>There where the mighty mountains bare their fangs unto the moon;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>There where the sullen sundogs glare in the snow-bright, bitter noon,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And the glacier-gutted streams sweep down at the clarion call of June:</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>There where the livid tundras keep their tryst with the tranquil snows;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>There where the Silences are spawned, and the light of hellfire flows</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Into the bowl of the midnight sky, violet, amber, and rose:</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>There where the rapids churn and roar, and the ice-floes bellowing run;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Where the tortured, twisted rivers of blood rush to the setting sun—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>I’ve packed my kit and I’m going, boys, ere another day is done.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<hr/>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>I knew it would call, or soon or late, as it calls the whirring wings;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>It’s the olden lure, it’s the golden lure, it’s the lure of the timeless things;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And tonight, O God of the trails untrod, how it whines in my heartstrings!</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>I’m sick to death of your well-groomed gods, your make-believe and your show;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>I long for a whiff of bacon and beans, a snug shakedown in the snow,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>A trail to break, and a life at stake, and another bout with the foe;</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>With the raw-ribbed Wild that abhors all life, the wild that would crush and rend;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>I have clinched and closed with the naked North, I have learned to defy and defend;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Shoulder to shoulder we’ve fought it out—yet the Wild must win in the end.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>I have flouted the Wild. I have followed its lure, fearless, familiar, alone;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>By all that the battle means and makes I claim that land for mine own;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Yet the Wild must win, and a day will come when I shall be overthrown.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Then when as wolf-dogs fight we’ve fought, the lean wolf-land and I;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Fought and bled till the snows are red under the reeling sky;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Even as lean wolf-dog goes down will I go down and die.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</article>
|
||
<article id="the-three-voices" epub:type="z3998:poem bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">The Three Voices</h2>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>The waves have a story to tell me,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">As I lie on the lonely beach;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Chanting aloft in the pine-tops,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The wind has a lesson to teach;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>But the stars sing an anthem of glory</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">I cannot put into speech.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>The waves tell of ocean spaces,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Of hearts that are wild and brave,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Of populous city places,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Of desolate shores they lave;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Of men who sally in quest of gold</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">To sink in an ocean grave.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>The wind is a mighty roamer;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">He bids me keep me free,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Clean from the taint of the gold-lust,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Hardy and pure as he;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Cling with my love to nature</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">As a child to the mother-knee.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>But the stars throng out in their glory,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And they sing of the God in man;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>They sing of the mighty Master,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Of the loom His fingers span;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Where a star or a soul is a part of the whole,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And weft in the wondrous plan.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Here by the campfire’s flicker,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Deep in my blanket curled,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>I long for the peace of the pine-gloom</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">When the scroll of the Lord is unfurled,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And the wind and the wave are silent,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And world is singing to world.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</article>
|
||
<article id="the-pines" epub:type="z3998:poem bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">The Pines</h2>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>We sleep in the sleep of ages, the bleak, barbarian pines;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The grey moss drapes us like sages, and closer we lock our lines,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And deeper we clutch through the gelid gloom where never a sunbeam shines.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>On the flanks of the storm-gored ridges are our black battalions massed;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>We surge in a host to the sullen coast, and we sing in the ocean blast;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>From empire of sea to empire of snow we grip our empire fast.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>To the niggard lands were we driven; ’twixt desert and floe are we penned.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>To us was the Northland given, ours to stronghold and defend;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Ours till the world be riven in the crash of the utter end.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Ours from the bleak beginning, through the aeons of deathlike sleep;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Ours from the shock when the naked rock was hurled from the hissing deep;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Ours through the twilight ages of weary glacier-creep.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Wind of the East, wind of the West, wandering to and fro,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Chant your songs in our topmost boughs, that the sons of men may know</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The peerless pine was the first to come, and the pine will be last to go!</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>We pillar the halls of perfumed gloom; we plume where the eagles soar;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The North-wind swoops from the brooding Pole, and our ancients crash and roar;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>But where one falls from the crumbling walls shoots up a hardy score.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>We spring from the gloom of the canyon’s womb; in the valley’s lap we lie;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>From the white foam-fringe where the breakers cringe to the peaks that tusk the sky</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>We climb, and we peer in the crag-locked mere that gleams like a golden eye—</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Gain to the verge of the hogback ridge where the vision ranges free:</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Pines and pines and the shadow of pines as far as the eye can see;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>A steadfast legion of stalwart knights in dominant empery.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Sun, moon and stars, give answer; shall we not staunchly stand</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Even as now, forever, wards of the wilder strand,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Sentinels of the stillness, lords of the last lone land!</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</article>
|
||
<article id="the-harpy" epub:type="z3998:poem bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">The Harpy</h2>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>
|
||
<i>There was a woman, and she was wise; woefully wise was she;</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>
|
||
<i>She was old, so old, yet her years all told were but a score and three;</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>
|
||
<i>And she knew by heart, from finish to start, the Book of Iniquity.</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>There is no hope for such as I, on earth nor yet in Heaven;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Unloved I live, unloved I die, unpitied, unforgiven;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>A loathèd jade I ply my trade, unhallowed and unshriven.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>I paint my cheeks, for they are white, and cheeks of chalk men hate;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Mine eyes with wine I make to shine, that men may seek and sate;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>With overhead a lamp of red I sit me down and wait.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Until they come, the nightly scum, with drunken eyes aflame;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Your sweethearts, sons, ye scornful ones—’tis I who know their shame;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The gods ye see are brutes to me—and so I play my game.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>For life is not the thing we thought, and not the thing we plan;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And woman in a bitter world must do the best she can;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Must yield the stroke, and bear the yoke, and serve the will of man;</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Must serve his need and ever feed the flame of his desire;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Though be she loved for love alone, or be she loved for hire;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>For every man since life began is tainted with the mire.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>And though you know he love you so, and set you on love’s throne,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Yet let your eyes but mock his sighs, and let your heart be stone,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Lest you be left (as I was left) attainted and alone.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>From love’s close kiss to hell’s abyss is one sheer flight, I trow;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And wedding-ring and bridal bell are will-o’-wisps of woe;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And ’tis not wise to love too well, and this all women know.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Wherefore, the wolf-pack having gorged upon the lamb, their prey,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>With siren smile and serpent guile I make the wolf-pack pay;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>With velvet paws and flensing claws, a tigress roused to slay.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>One who in youth sought truest truth, and found a devil’s lies;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>A symbol of the sin of man, a human sacrifice:</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Yet shall I blame on man the shame? Could it be otherwise?</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Was I not born to walk in scorn where others walk in pride?</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The Maker marred, and evil-starred I drift upon His tide;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And He alone shall judge His own, so I His judgment bide.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>
|
||
<i>Fate has written a tragedy; its name is “The Human Heart.”</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>
|
||
<i>The theatre is the House of Life, Woman the mummer’s part:</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>
|
||
<i>The Devil enters the prompter’s box and the play is ready to start.</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</article>
|
||
<article id="the-lure-of-little-voices" epub:type="z3998:poem bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">The Lure of Little Voices</h2>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>There’s a cry from out the Loneliness—Oh, listen, Honey, listen!</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Do you hear it, do you fear it, you’re a-holding of me so?</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>You’re a-sobbing in your sleep, dear, and your lashes, how they glisten—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Do you hear the Little Voices all a-begging me to go?</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>All a-begging me to leave you. Day and night they’re pleading, praying,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">On the North-wind, on the West-wind, from the peak and from the plain;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Night and day they never leave me—do you know what they are saying?</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">“He was ours before you got him, and we want him once again.”</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Yes, they’re wanting me, they’re haunting me, the awful lonely places;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">They’re whining and they’re whimpering as if each had a soul;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>They’re calling from the wilderness, the vast and godlike spaces,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The stark and sullen solitudes that sentinel the Pole.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>They miss my little campfires, ever brightly, bravely gleaming</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">In the womb of desolation where was never man before;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>As comradeless I sought them, lionhearted, loving, dreaming;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And they hailed me as a comrade, and they loved me evermore.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>And now they’re all a-crying, and it’s no use me denying:</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The spell of them is on me and I’m helpless as a child;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>My heart is aching, aching, but I hear them sleeping, waking;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">It’s the Lure of Little Voices, it’s the mandate of the Wild.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>I’m afraid to tell you, Honey, I can take no bitter leaving;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">But softly in the sleep-time from your love I’ll steal away.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Oh, it’s cruel, dearie, cruel, and it’s God knows how I’m grieving;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">But His Loneliness is calling and He knows I must obey.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</article>
|
||
<article id="the-song-of-the-wage-slave" epub:type="z3998:poem bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">The Song of the Wage-Slave</h2>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>When the long, long day is over, and the Big Boss gives me my pay,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>I hope that it won’t be hellfire, as some of the parsons say.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And I hope that it won’t be heaven, with some of the parsons I’ve met—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>All I want is just quiet, just to rest and forget.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Look at my face, toil-furrowed; look at my calloused hands;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Master, I’ve done Thy bidding, wrought in Thy many lands—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Wrought for the little masters, big-bellied they be, and rich;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>I’ve done their desire for a daily hire, and I die like a dog in a ditch.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>I have used the strength Thou hast given, Thou knowest I did not shirk;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Threescore years of labour—Thine be the long day’s work.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And now, Big Master, I’m broken and bent and twisted and scarred,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>But I’ve held my job, and Thou knowest, and Thou wilt not judge me hard.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Thou knowest my sins are many, and often I’ve played the fool—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Whiskey and cards and women, they made me the devil’s tool.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>I was just like a child with money: I flung it away with a curse,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Feasting a fawning parasite, or glutting a harlot’s purse,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Then back to the woods repentant, back to the mill or the mine,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>I, the worker of workers, everything in my line.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Everything hard but headwork (I’d no more brains than a kid),</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>A brute with brute strength to labour, doing as I was bid;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Living in camps with menfolk, a lonely and loveless life;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Never knew kiss of sweetheart, never caress of wife.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>A brute with brute strength to labour, and they were so far above—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Yet I’d gladly have gone to the gallows for one little look of Love.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>I with the strength of two men, savage and shy and wild—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Yet how I’d ha’ treasured a woman, and the sweet, warm kiss of a child.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Well, ’tis Thy world, and Thou knowest. I blaspheme and my ways be rude;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>But I’ve lived my life as I found it, and I’ve done my best to be good;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>I, the primitive toiler, half naked, and grimed to the eyes,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Sweating it deep in their ditches, swining it stark in their styes,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Hulling down forests before me, spanning tumultuous streams;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Down in the ditch building o’er me palaces fairer than dreams;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Boring the rock to the ore-bed, driving the road through the fen,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Resolute, dumb, uncomplaining, a man in a world of men.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Master, I’ve filled my contract, wrought in Thy many lands;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Not by my sins wilt Thou judge me, but by the work of my hands.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Master, I’ve done Thy bidding, and the light is low in the west,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And the long, long shift is over … Master, I’ve earned it—Rest.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</article>
|
||
<article id="grin" epub:type="z3998:poem bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">Grin</h2>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>If you’re up against a bruiser and you’re getting knocked about—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i6">Grin.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>If you’re feeling pretty groggy, and you’re licked beyond a doubt—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i6">Grin.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Don’t let him see you’re funking, let him know with every clout,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Though your face is battered to a pulp, your blooming heart is stout;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Just stand upon your pins until the beggar knocks you out—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i6">And grin.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>This life’s a bally battle, and the same advice holds true,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i6">Of grin.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>If you’re up against it badly, then it’s only one on you,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i6">So grin.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>If the future’s black as thunder, don’t let people see you’re blue;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Just cultivate a cast-iron smile of joy the whole day through;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>If they call you “Little Sunshine,” wish that <em>they’d</em> no troubles, too—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i6">You may—grin.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Rise up in the morning with the will that, smooth or rough,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i6">You’ll grin.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Sink to sleep at midnight, and although you’re feeling tough,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i6">Yet grin.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>There’s nothing gained by whining, and you’re not that kind of stuff;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>You’re a fighter from away back, and you <em>won’t</em> take a rebuff;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Your trouble is that you don’t know when you have had enough—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i6">Don’t give in.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>If Fate should down you, just get up and take another cuff;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>You may bank on it that there is no philosophy like bluff</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i6">And grin.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</article>
|
||
<article id="the-shooting-of-dan-mcgrew" epub:type="z3998:poem bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">The Shooting of Dan McGrew</h2>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>A bunch of the boys were whooping it up in the Malamute saloon;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The kid that handles the music-box was hitting a jag-time tune;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Back of the bar, in a solo game, sat Dangerous Dan McGrew,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And watching his luck was his light-o’-love, the lady that’s known as Lou.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>When out of the night, which was fifty below, and into the din and the glare,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>There stumbled a miner fresh from the creeks, dog-dirty and loaded for bear.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>He looked like a man with a foot in the grave, and scarcely the strength of a louse,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Yet he tilted a poke of dust on the bar, and he called for drinks for the house.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>There was none could place the stranger’s face, though we searched ourselves for a clue;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>But we drank his health, and the last to drink was Dangerous Dan McGrew.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>There’s men that somehow just grip your eyes, and hold them hard like a spell;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And such was he, and he looked to me like a man who had lived in hell;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>With a face most hair, and the dreary stare of a dog whose day is done,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>As he watered the green stuff in his glass, and the drops fell one by one.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Then I got to figgering who he was, and wondering what he’d do,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And I turned my head—and there watching him was the lady that’s known as Lou.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>His eyes went rubbering round the room, and he seemed in a kind of daze,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Till at last that old piano fell in the way of his wandering gaze.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The ragtime kid was having a drink; there was no one else on the stool,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>So the stranger stumbles across the room, and flops down there like a fool.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>In a buckskin shirt that was glazed with dirt he sat, and I saw him sway;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Then he clutched the keys with his talon hands—my God! but that man could play!</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Were you ever out in the Great Alone, when the moon was awful clear,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And the icy mountains hemmed you in with a silence you most could <em>hear</em>;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>With only the howl of a timber wolf, and you camped there in the cold,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>A half-dead thing in a stark, dead world, clean mad for the muck called gold;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>While high overhead, green, yellow, and red, the North Lights swept in bars—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Then you’ve a haunch what the music meant … hunger and night and the stars.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>And hunger not of the belly kind, that’s banished with bacon and beans;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>But the gnawing hunger of lonely men for a home and all that it means;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>For a fireside far from the cares that are, four walls and a roof above;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>But oh! so cramful of cosy joy, and crowned with a woman’s love;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>A woman dearer than all the world, and true as Heaven is true—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>(God! how ghastly she looks through her rouge—the lady that’s known as Lou.)</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Then on a sudden the music changed, so soft that you scarce could hear;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>But you felt that your life had been looted clean of all that it once held dear;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>That someone had stolen the woman you loved; that her love was a devil’s lie;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>That your guts were gone, and the best for you was to crawl away and die.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>’Twas the crowning cry of a heart’s despair, and it thrilled you through and through—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>“I guess I’ll make it a spread misere,” said Dangerous Dan McGrew.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>The music almost died away … then it burst like a pent-up flood;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And it seemed to say, “Repay, repay,” and my eyes were blind with blood.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The thought came back of an ancient wrong, and it stung like a frozen lash,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And the lust awoke to kill, to kill … then the music stopped with a crash,</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>And the stranger turned, and his eyes they burned in a most peculiar way;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>In a buckskin shirt that was glazed with dirt he sat, and I saw him sway;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Then his lips went in in a kind of grin, and he spoke, and his voice was calm;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And, “Boys,” says he, “you don’t know me, and none of you care a damn;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>But I want to state, and my words are straight, and I’ll bet my poke they’re true,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>That one of you is a hound of hell … and that one is Dan McGrew.”</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Then I ducked my head, and the lights went out, and two guns blazed in the dark;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And a woman screamed, and the lights went up, and two men lay stiff and stark;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Pitched on his head, and pumped full of lead, was Dangerous Dan McGrew,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>While the man from the creeks lay clutched to the breast of the lady that’s known as Lou.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>These are the simple facts of the case, and I guess I ought to know;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>They say that the stranger was crazed with “hooch,” and I’m not denying it’s so.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>I’m not so wise as the lawyer guys, but strictly between us two—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The woman that kissed him and—pinched his poke—was the lady that’s known as Lou.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</article>
|
||
<article id="the-cremation-of-sam-mcgee" epub:type="z3998:poem bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">The Cremation of Sam McGee</h2>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>
|
||
<i>There are strange things done in the midnight sun</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">
|
||
<i>By the men who moil for gold;</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>
|
||
<i>The Arctic trails have their secret tales</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">
|
||
<i>That would make your blood run cold;</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>
|
||
<i>The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">
|
||
<i>But the queerest they ever did see</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>
|
||
<i>Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">
|
||
<i>I cremated Sam McGee.</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Why he left his home in the South to roam round the Pole God only knows.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Though he’d often say in his homely way that he’d “sooner live in hell.”</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Talk of your cold! through the parka’s fold it stabbed like a driven nail.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>If our eyes we’d close, then the lashes froze, till sometimes we couldn’t see;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>It wasn’t much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>And that very night as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And the dogs were fed, and the stars o’erhead were dancing heel and toe,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>He turned to me, and, “Cap,” says he, “I’ll cash in this trip, I guess;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And if I do, I’m asking that you won’t refuse my last request.”</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Well, he seemed so low that I couldn’t say no; then he says with a sort of moan:</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>“It’s the cursèd cold, and it’s got right hold till I’m chilled clean through to the bone.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Yet ’taint being dead, it’s my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you’ll cremate my last remains.”</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>A pal’s last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And we started on at the streak of dawn, but God! he looked ghastly pale.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>There wasn’t a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror driven,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>With a corpse half-hid that I couldn’t get rid because of a promise given;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: “You may tax your brawn and brains,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>But you promised true, and it’s up to you to cremate those last remains.”</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Howled out their woes to the homeless snows—O God! how I loathed the thing!</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And I’d often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the “Alice May.”</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum:</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Then, “Here,” said I, with a sudden cry, “is my cre-ma-tor-eum.”</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The flames just soared, and the furnace roared—such a blaze you seldom see;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Then I made a hike, for I didn’t like to hear him sizzle so;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don’t know why;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: “I’ll just take a peep inside.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>I guess he’s cooked, and it’s time I looked,” … then the door I opened wide.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: “Please close that door.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>It’s fine in here, but I greatly fear you’ll let in the cold and storm—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it’s the first time I’ve been warm.”</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>
|
||
<i>There are strange things done in the midnight sun</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">
|
||
<i>By the men who moil for gold;</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>
|
||
<i>The Arctic trails have their secret tales</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">
|
||
<i>That would make your blood run cold;</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>
|
||
<i>The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">
|
||
<i>But the queerest they ever did see</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>
|
||
<i>Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">
|
||
<i>I cremated Sam McGee.</i>
|
||
</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</article>
|
||
<article id="my-madonna" epub:type="z3998:poem bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">My Madonna</h2>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>I haled me a woman from the street,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Shameless, but, oh, so fair!</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>I bade her sit in the model’s seat,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And I painted her sitting there.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span class="i2">I hid all trace of her heart unclean;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i3">I painted a babe at her breast;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i2">I painted her as she might have been</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i3">If the Worst had been the Best.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>She laughed at my picture, and went away.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Then came, with a knowing nod,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>A connoisseur, and I heard him say:</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">“ ’Tis Mary, the Mother of God.”</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span class="i2">So I painted a halo round her hair,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i3">And I sold her, and took my fee,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i2">And she hangs in the church of Saint Hilaire,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i3">Where you and all may see.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</article>
|
||
<article id="unforgotten" epub:type="z3998:poem bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">Unforgotten</h2>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>I know a garden where the lilies gleam,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And one who lingers in the sunshine there;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">She is than white-stoled lily far more fair,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And oh, her eyes are heaven-lit with dream.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span class="i2">I know a garret, cold and dark and drear,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i3">And one who toils and toils with tireless pen,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i3">Until his brave, sad eyes grow weary—then</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i2">He seeks the stars, pale, silent as a seer.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>And ah, it’s strange, for desolate and dim</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Between these two there rolls an ocean wide;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Yet he is in the garden by her side,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And she is in the garret there with him.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</article>
|
||
<article id="the-reckoning" epub:type="z3998:poem bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">The Reckoning</h2>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>It’s fine to have a blowout in a fancy restaurant,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>With terrapin and canvasback and all the wine you want;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>To enjoy the flowers and music, watch the pretty women pass,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Smoke a choice cigar, and sip the wealthy water in your glass;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>It’s bully in a high-toned joint to eat and drink your fill,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>But it’s quite another matter when you</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i6">Pay the bill.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>It’s great to go out every night on fun or pleasure bent,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>To wear your glad rags always, and to never save a cent;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>To drift along regardless, have a good time every trip;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>To hit the high spots sometimes, and to let your chances slip;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>To know you’re acting foolish, yet to go on fooling still,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Till Nature calls a showdown, and you</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i6">Pay the bill.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Time has got a little bill—get wise while yet you may,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>For the debit side’s increasing in a most alarming way;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The things you had no right to do, the things you should have done,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>They’re all put down: it’s up to you to pay for every one.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>So eat, drink, and be merry, have a good time if you will,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>But God help you when the time comes, and you</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i6">Foot the bill.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</article>
|
||
<article id="quatrains" epub:type="z3998:poem bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">Quatrains</h2>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>One said: Thy life is thine to make or mar,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>To flicker feebly, or to soar, a star;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>It lies with thee—the choice is thine, is thine,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>To hit the ties or drive thy auto-car.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>I answer Her: The choice is mine—ah, no!</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>We all were made or marred long, long ago.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The parts are written: hear the super wail:</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>“Who is stage-managing this cosmic show?”</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Blind fools of fate, and slaves of circumstance,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Life is a fiddler, and we all must dance.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>From gloom where mocks that will-o’-wisp, Freewill,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>I heard a voice cry: “Say, give us a chance.”</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Chance! Oh, there is no chance. The scene is set.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Up with the curtain! Man, the marionette,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Resumes his part. The gods will work the wires.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>They’ve got it all down fine, you bet, you bet!</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>It’s all decreed: the mighty earthquake crash;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The countless constellations’ wheel and flash;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The rise and fall of empires, war’s red tide,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The composition of your dinner hash.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>There’s no haphazard in this world of ours:</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Cause and effect are grim, relentless powers.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>They rule the world. (A king was shot last night.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Last night I held the joker and both bowers.)</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>From out the mesh of fate our heads we thrust.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>We can’t do what we would, but what we must.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Heredity has got us in a cinch.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>(Consoling thought, when you’ve been on a “bust.”)</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Hark to the song where spheral voices blend:</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>“There’s no beginning, never will be end.”</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>It makes us nutty; hang the astral chimes!</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The table’s spread; come, let us dine, my friend.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</article>
|
||
<article id="the-men-that-dont-fit-in" epub:type="z3998:poem bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">The Men That Don’t Fit In</h2>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>There’s a race of men that don’t fit in,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">A race that can’t stay still;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>So they break the hearts of kith and kin,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And they roam the world at will.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>They range the field and they rove the flood,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And they climb the mountain’s crest;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Theirs is the curse of the gipsy blood,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And they don’t know how to rest.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span class="i2">If they just went straight they might go far;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i3">They are strong and brave and true;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i2">But they’re always tired of the things that are,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i3">And they want the strange and new.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i2">They say: “Could I find my proper groove,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i3">What a deep mark I would make!”</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i2">So they chop and change, and each fresh move</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i3">Is only a fresh mistake.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>And each forgets, as he strips and runs,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">With a brilliant, fitful pace,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>It’s the steady, quiet, plodding ones</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Who win in the lifelong race.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And each forgets that his youth has fled,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Forgets that his prime is past,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Till he stands one day with a hope that’s dead</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">In the glare of the truth at last.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span class="i2">He has failed, he has failed; he has missed his chance;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i3">He has just done things by half.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i2">Life’s been a jolly good joke on him,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i3">And now is the time to laugh.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i2">Ha, ha! He is one of the Legion Lost;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i3">He was never meant to win;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i2">He’s a rolling stone, and it’s bred in the bone;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i3">He’s a man who won’t fit in.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</article>
|
||
<article id="music-in-the-bush" epub:type="z3998:poem bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">Music in the Bush</h2>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>O’er the dark pines she sees the silver moon,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And in the west, all tremulous, a star;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And soothing sweet she hears the mellow tune</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Of cowbells jangled in the fields afar.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Quite listless, for her daily stent is done,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">She stands, sad exile, at her rose-wreathed door,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And sends her love eternal with the sun</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">That goes to gild the land she’ll see no more.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>The grave, gaunt pines imprison her sad gaze,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">All still the sky and darkling drearily;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>She feels the chilly breath of dear, dead days</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Come sifting through the alders eerily.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Oh, how the roses riot in their bloom!</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The curtains stir as with an ancient pain;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Her old piano gleams from out the gloom,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And waits and waits her tender touch in vain.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>But now her hands like moonlight brush the keys</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">With velvet grace, melodious delight;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And now a sad refrain from overseas</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Goes sobbing on the bosom of the night.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>And now she sings. (O singer in the gloom,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Voicing a sorrow we can ne’er express,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Here in the Farness where we few have room</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Unshamed to show our love and tenderness,</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Our hearts will echo, till they beat no more,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">That song of sadness and of motherland;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And stretched in deathless love to England’s shore,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Some day she’ll hearken and she’ll understand.)</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>A prima-donna in the shining past,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">But now a mother growing old and grey,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>She thinks of how she held a people fast</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">In thrall, and gleaned the triumphs of a day.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>She sees a sea of faces like a dream;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">She sees herself a queen of song once more;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>She sees lips part in rapture, eyes agleam;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">She sings as never once she sang before.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>She sings a wild, sweet song that throbs with pain,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The added pain of life that transcends art,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>A song of home, a deep, celestial strain,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The glorious swan-song of a dying heart.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>A lame tramp comes along the railway track,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">A grizzled dog whose day is nearly done:</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>He passes, pauses, then comes slowly back</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And listens there—an audience of one.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>She sings—her golden voice is passion-fraught</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">As when she charmed a thousand eager ears;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>He listens trembling, and she knows it not,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And down his hollow cheeks roll bitter tears.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>She ceases and is still, as if to pray;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">There is no sound, the stars are all alight—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Only a wretch who stumbles on his way,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Only a vagrant sobbing in the night.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</article>
|
||
<article id="the-rhyme-of-the-remittance-man" epub:type="z3998:poem bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">The Rhyme of the Remittance Man</h2>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>There’s a four-pronged buck a-swinging in the shadow of my cabin,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And it roamed the velvet valley till today;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>But I tracked it by the river, and I trailed it in the cover,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And I killed it on the mountain miles away.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Now I’ve had my lazy supper, and the level sun is gleaming</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">On the water where the silver salmon play;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And I light my little corncob, and I linger softly dreaming,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">In the twilight, of a land that’s far away.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Far away, so faint and far, is flaming London, fevered Paris,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">That I fancy I have gained another star;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Far away the din and hurry, far away the sin and worry,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Far away—God knows they cannot be too far.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Gilded galley-slaves of Mammon—how my purse-proud brothers taunt me!</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">I might have been as well-to-do as they</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Had I clutched like them my chances, learned their wisdom, crushed my fancies,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Starved my soul and gone to business every day.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Well, the cherry bends with blossom, and the vivid grass is springing,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And the starlike lily nestles in the green;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And the frogs their joys are singing, and my heart in tune is ringing,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And it doesn’t matter what I might have been,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>While above the scented pine-gloom, piling heights of golden glory,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The sun-god paints his canvas in the west;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>I can couch me deep in clover, I can listen to the story</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Of the lazy, lapping water—it is best.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>While the trout leaps in the river, and the blue grouse thrills the cover,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And the frozen snow betrays the panther’s track,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And the robin greets the dayspring with the rapture of a lover,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">I am happy, and I’ll nevermore go back.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>For I know I’d just be longing for the little old log cabin,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">With the morning-glory clinging to the door,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Till I loathed the city places, cursed the care on all the faces,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Turned my back on lazar London evermore.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>So send me far from Lombard Street, and write me down a failure;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Put a little in my purse and leave me free.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Say: “He turned from Fortune’s offering to follow up a pale lure,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">He is one of us no longer—let him be.”</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>I am one of you no longer: by the trails my feet have broken,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The dizzy peaks I’ve scaled, the campfire’s glow,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>By the lonely seas I’ve sailed in—yea, the final word is spoken,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">I am signed and sealed to nature. Be it so.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</article>
|
||
<article id="the-low-down-white" epub:type="z3998:poem bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">The Low-Down White</h2>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>This is the payday up at the mines, when the bearded brutes come down;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>There’s money to burn in the streets tonight, so I’ve sent my klooch to town,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>With a haggard face and a ribbon of red entwined in her hair of brown.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>And I know at the dawn she’ll come reeling home with the bottles, one, two, three;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>One for herself to drown her shame, and two big bottles for me,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>To make me forget the thing I am and the man I used to be.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>To make me forget the brand of the dog, as I crouch in this hideous place;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>To make me forget once I kindled the light of love in a lady’s face,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Where even the squalid Siwash now holds me a black disgrace.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Oh, I have guarded my secret well! And who would dream as I speak</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>In a tribal tongue like a rogue unhung, ’mid the ranch-house filth and reek,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>I could roll to bed with a Latin phrase, and rise with a verse of Greek?</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Yet I was a senior prizeman once, and the pride of a college eight;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Called to the bar—my friends were true! but they could not keep me straight;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Then came the divorce, and I went abroad and “died” on the River Plate.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>But I’m not dead yet; though with half a lung there isn’t time to spare,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And I hope that the year will see me out, and, thank God, no one will care—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Save maybe the little slim Siwash girl with the rose of shame in her hair.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>She will come with the dawn, and the dawn is near; I can see its evil glow,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Like a corpse-light seen through a frosty pane in a night of want and woe;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And yonder she comes, by the bleak bull-pines, swift staggering through the snow.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</article>
|
||
<article id="the-little-old-log-cabin" epub:type="z3998:poem bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">The Little Old Log Cabin</h2>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>When a man gits on his uppers in a hardpan sort of town,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">An’ he ain’t got nothin’ comin’, an’ he can’t afford ter eat,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>An’ he’s in a fix fer lodgin’, an’ he wanders up an’ down,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">An’ you’d fancy he’d been boozin’, he’s so locoed ’bout the feet;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>When he’s feelin’ sneakin’ sorry, an’ his belt is hangin’ slack,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">An’ his face is peaked an’ grey-like, an’ his heart gits down an’ whines,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Then he’s apt ter git a-thinkin’ an’ a-wishin’ he was back</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">In the little ol’ log cabin in the shadder of the pines.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>When he’s on the blazin’ desert, an’ his canteen’s sprung a leak,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">An’ he’s all alone an’ crazy, an’ he’s crawlin’ like a snail,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>An’ his tongue’s so black an’ swollen that it hurts him fer to speak,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">An’ he gouges down fer water, an’ the raven’s on his trail;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>When he’s done with care and cursin’, an’ he feels more like to cry,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">An’ he sees ol’ Death a-grinnin’, an’ he thinks upon his crimes,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Then he’s like ter hev’ a vision, as he settles down ter die,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Of the little ol’ log cabin an’ the roses an’ the vines.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Oh, the little ol’ log cabin, it’s a solemn shinin’ mark</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">When a feller gits ter sinnin’, an’ a-goin’ ter the wall,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>An’ folks don’t understand him, an’ he’s gropin’ in the dark,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">An’ he’s sick of bein’ cursed at, an’ he’s longin’ fer his call:</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>When the sun of life’s a-sinkin’ you can see it ’way above,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">On the hill from out the shadder in a glory ’gin the sky,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>An’ your mother’s voice is callin’, an’ her arms are stretched in love,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">An’ somehow you’re glad you’re goin’, an’ you ain’t a-scared to die;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>When you’ll be like a kid again, an’ nestle to her breast,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">An’ never leave its shelter, an’ forget, an’ love, an’ rest.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</article>
|
||
<article id="the-younger-son" epub:type="z3998:poem bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">The Younger Son</h2>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>If you leave the gloom of London and you seek a glowing land,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Where all except the flag is strange and new,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>There’s a bronzed and stalwart fellow who will grip you by the hand,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And greet you with a welcome warm and true;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>For he’s your younger brother, the one you sent away,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Because there wasn’t room for him at home;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And now he’s quite contented, and he’s glad he didn’t stay,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And he’s building Britain’s greatness o’er the foam.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>When the giant herd is moving at the rising of the sun,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And the prairie is lit with rose and gold;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And the camp is all a-bustle, and the busy day’s begun,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">He leaps into the saddle sure and bold.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Through the round of heat and hurry, through the racket and the rout,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">He rattles at a pace that nothing mars;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And when the night-winds whisper, and campfires flicker out,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">He is sleeping like a child beneath the stars.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>When the wattle-blooms are drooping in the sombre she-oak glade,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And the breathless land is lying in a swoon,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>He leaves his work a moment, leaning lightly on his spade,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And he hears the bellbird chime the Austral noon.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The parakeets are silent in the gum-tree by the creek;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The ferny grove is sunshine-steeped and still;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>But the dew will gem the myrtle in the twilight ere he seek</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">His little lonely cabin on the hill.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Around the purple, vine-clad slope the argent river dreams;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The roses almost hide the house from view;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>A snow-peak of the Winterberg in crimson splendour gleams;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The shadow deepens down on the karroo.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>He seeks the lily-scented dusk beneath the orange-tree:</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">His pipe in silence glows and fades and glows,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And then two little maids come out and climb upon his knee,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And one is like the lily, one the rose.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>He sees his white sheep dapple o’er the green New Zealand plain,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And where Vancouver’s shaggy ramparts frown,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>When the sunlight threads the pine-gloom he is fighting might and main</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">To clinch the rivets of an Empire down.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>You will find him toiling, toiling, in the south or in the west,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">A child of nature, fearless, frank and free;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And the warmest heart that beats for you is beating in his breast,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And he sends you loyal greeting o’er the sea.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>You’ve a brother in the Army, you’ve another in the Church;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">One of you is a diplomatic swell;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>You’ve had the pick of everything and left him in the lurch;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And yet I think he’s doing very well.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>I’m sure his life is happy, and he doesn’t envy yours;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">I know he loves the land his pluck has won;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And I fancy in the years unborn, while England’s fame endures,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">She will come to bless with pride—the Younger Son.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</article>
|
||
<article id="the-march-of-the-dead" epub:type="z3998:poem bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">The March of the Dead</h2>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>The cruel war was over—oh, the triumph was so sweet!</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">We watched the troops returning, through our tears;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>There was triumph, triumph, triumph down the scarlet glittering street,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And you scarce could hear the music for the cheers.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And you scarce could see the housetops for the flags that flew between,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The bells were pealing madly to the sky;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And everyone was shouting for the Soldiers of the Queen,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And the glory of an age was passing by.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>And then there came a shadow, swift and sudden, dark and drear;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The bells were silent, not an echo stirred.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The flags were drooping sullenly, the men forgot to cheer;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">We waited, and we never spoke a word.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The sky grew darker, darker, till from out the gloomy rack</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">There came a voice that checked the heart with dread:</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>“Tear down, tear down your bunting now, and hang up sable black;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">They are coming—it’s the Army of the Dead.”</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>They were coming, they were coming, gaunt and ghastly, sad and slow;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">They were coming, all the crimson wrecks of pride;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>With faces seared, and cheeks red smeared, and haunting eyes of woe,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And clotted holes the khaki couldn’t hide.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Oh, the clammy brow of anguish! the livid, foam-flecked lips!</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The reeling ranks of ruin swept along!</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The limb that trailed, the hand that failed, the bloody fingertips!</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And oh, the dreary rhythm of their song!</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>“They left us on the veldt-side, but we felt we couldn’t stop,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">On this, our England’s crowning festal day;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>We’re the men of Magersfontein, we’re the men of Spion Kop,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Colenso—we’re the men who had to pay.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>We’re the men who paid the blood-price. Shall the grave be all our gain?</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">You owe us. Long and heavy is the score.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Then cheer us for our glory now, and cheer us for our pain,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And cheer us as ye never cheered before.”</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>The folks were white and stricken, and each tongue seemed weighed with lead;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Each heart was clutched in hollow hand of ice;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And every eye was staring at the horror of the dead,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The pity of the men who paid the price.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>They were come, were come to mock us, in the first flush of our peace;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Through writhing lips their teeth were all agleam;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>They were coming in their thousands—oh, would they never cease!</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">I closed my eyes, and then—it was a dream.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>There was triumph, triumph, triumph down the scarlet gleaming street;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The town was mad, a man was like a boy.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>A thousand flags were flaming where the sky and city meet;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">A thousand bells were thundering the joy.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>There was music, mirth and sunshine; but some eyes shone with regret:</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And while we stun with cheers our homing braves,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>O God, in Thy great mercy, let us nevermore forget</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The graves they left behind, the bitter graves.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</article>
|
||
<article id="fighting-mac" epub:type="z3998:poem bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||
<hgroup>
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">“Fighting Mac”</h2>
|
||
<p epub:type="subtitle">A Life Tragedy</p>
|
||
</hgroup>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>A pistol shot rings round and round the world:</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">In pitiful defeat a warrior lies.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>A last defiance to dark Death is hurled,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">A last wild challenge shocks the sunlit skies.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Alone he falls with wide, wan, woeful eyes:</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Eyes that could smile at death—could not face shame.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Alone, alone he paced his narrow room,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">In the bright sunshine of that Paris day;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Saw in his thought the awful hand of doom;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Saw in his dream his glory pass away;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Tried in his heart, his weary heart, to pray:</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>“O God! who made me, give me strength to face</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The spectre of this bitter, black disgrace.”</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<hr/>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>The burn brawls darkly down the shaggy glen,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The bee-kissed heather blooms around the door;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>He sees himself a barefoot boy again,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Bending o’er page of legendary lore.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">He hears the pibroch, grips the red claymore,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Runs with the Fiery Cross a clansman true,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Sworn kinsman of Rob Roy and Roderick Dhu.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Eating his heart out with a wild desire,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">One day, behind his counter trim and neat,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>He hears a sound that sets his brain afire—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The Highlanders are marching down the street.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Oh, how the pipes shrill out, the mad drums beat!</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>“On to the gates of Hell, my Gordons gay!”</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>He flings his hated yardstick far away.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>He sees the sullen pass, high-crowned with snow,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Where Afghans cower with eyes of gleaming hate.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>He hurls himself against the hidden foe.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">They try to rally—ah, too late, too late!</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Again, defenceless, with fierce eyes that wait</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>For death, he stands, like baited bull at bay,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And flouts the Boers, that mad Majuba day.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>He sees again the murderous Sudan,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Blood-slaked and rapine swept. He seems to stand</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Upon the gory plain of Omdurman.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Then Magersfontein, and supreme command</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Over his Highlanders. To shake his hand</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>A King is proud, and princes call him friend,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And glory crowns his life—and now the end.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>The awful end. His eyes are dark with doom;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">He hears the shrapnel shrieking overhead:</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>He sees the ravaged ranks, the flame-stabbed gloom.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Oh, to have fallen! the battlefield his bed,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">With Wauchope and his glorious brother-dead.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Why was he saved for this, for this? And now</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>He raises the revolver to his brow.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<hr/>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>In many a Highland home, framed with rude art,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">You’ll find his portrait, rough-hewn, stern and square:</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>It’s graven in the Fuyam fellah’s heart;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The Ghurka reads it at his evening prayer;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The raw lands know it, where the fierce suns glare;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The Dervish fears it. Honour to his name,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Who holds aloft the shield of England’s fame.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Mourn for our hero, men of Northern race!</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">We do not know his sin; we only know</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>His sword was keen. He laughed death in the face,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And struck, for Empire’s sake, a giant blow.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">His arm was strong. Ah! well they learnt, the foe.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The echo of his deeds is ringing yet,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Will ring for aye. All else … let us forget.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</article>
|
||
<article id="the-woman-and-the-angel" epub:type="z3998:poem bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">The Woman and the Angel</h2>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>An angel was tired of heaven, as he lounged in the golden street;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>His halo was tilted sideways, and his harp lay mute at his feet;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>So the Master stooped in His pity, and gave him a pass to go,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>For the space of a moon, to the earth-world, to mix with the men below.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>He doffed his celestial garments, scarce waiting to lay them straight;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>He bade goodbye to Peter, who stood by the golden gate;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The sexless singers of heaven chanted a fond farewell,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And the imps looked up as they pattered on the red-hot flags of hell.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Never was seen such an angel: eyes of a heavenly blue,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Features that shamed Apollo, hair of a golden hue;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The women simply adored him, his lips were like Cupid’s bow;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>But he never ventured to use them—and so they voted him slow.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Till at last there came One Woman, a marvel of loveliness,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And she whispered to him: “Do you love me?” And he answered that woman, “Yes.”</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And she said: “Put your arms around me, and kiss me, and hold me—so—”</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>But fiercely he drew back, saying: “This thing is wrong, and I know.”</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Then sweetly she mocked his scruples, and softly she him beguiled:</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>“You, who are verily man among men, speak with the tongue of a child.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>We have outlived the old standards; we have burst, like an over-tight thong,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The ancient, outworn, puritanic traditions of Right and Wrong.”</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Then the Master feared for His angel, and called him again to His side,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>For oh, the woman was wondrous, and oh, the angel was tried.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And deep in his hell sang the Devil, and this was the strain of his song:</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>“The ancient, outworn, puritanic traditions of Right and Wrong.”</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</article>
|
||
<article id="the-rhyme-of-the-restless-ones" epub:type="z3998:poem bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">The Rhyme of the Restless Ones</h2>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>We couldn’t sit and study for the law;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The stagnation of a bank we couldn’t stand;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>For our riot blood was surging, and we didn’t need much urging</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">To excitements and excesses that are banned.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>So we took to wine and drink and other things,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And the devil in us struggled to be free;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Till our friends rose up in wrath, and they pointed out the path,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And they paid our debts and packed us o’er the sea.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Oh, they shook us off and shipped us o’er the foam,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>To the larger lands that lure a man to roam;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i2">And we took the chance they gave</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i2">Of a far and foreign grave,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And we bade goodbye for evermore to home.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>And some of us are climbing on the peak,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And some of us are camping on the plain;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>By pine and palm you’ll find us, with never claim to bind us,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">By track and trail you’ll meet us once again.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>We are fated serfs to freedom—sky and sea;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">We have failed where slummy cities overflow;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>But the stranger ways of earth know our pride and know our worth,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And we go into the dark as fighters go.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Yes, we go into the night as brave men go,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Though our faces they be often streaked with woe;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i2">Yet we’re hard as cats to kill,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i2">And our hearts are reckless still,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And we’ve danced with death a dozen times or so.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>And you’ll find us in Alaska after gold,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And you’ll find us herding cattle in the South.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>We like strong drink and fun; and when the race is run,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">We often die with curses in our mouth.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>We are wild as colts unbroke, but never mean;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Of our sins we’ve shoulders broad to bear the blame;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>But we’ll never stay in town, and we’ll never settle down,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And we’ll never have an object or an aim.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>No, there’s that in us that time can never tame;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And life will always seem a careless game;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i2">And they’d better far forget—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i2">Those who say they love us yet—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Forget, blot out with bitterness our name.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</article>
|
||
<article id="new-years-eve" epub:type="z3998:poem bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">New Year’s Eve</h2>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>It’s cruel cold on the waterfront, silent and dark and drear;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Only the black tide weltering, only the hissing snow;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And I, alone, like a storm-tossed wreck, on this night of the glad New Year,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Shuffling along in the icy wind, ghastly and gaunt and slow.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>They’re playing a tune in McGuffy’s saloon, and it’s cheery and bright in there</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">(God! but I’m weak—since the bitter dawn, and never a bite of food);</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>I’ll just go over and slip inside—I mustn’t give way to despair—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Perhaps I can bum a little booze if the boys are feeling good.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>They’ll jeer at me, and they’ll sneer at me, and they’ll call me a whiskey soak;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">(“Have a drink? Well, thankee kindly, sir, I don’t mind if I do.”)</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>A drivelling, dirty gin-joint fiend, the butt of the barroom joke;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Sunk and sodden and hopeless—“Another? Well, here’s to you!”</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>McGuffy is showing a bunch of the boys how Bob Fitzsimmons hit;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The barman is talking of Tammany Hall, and why the ward boss got fired;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>I’ll just sneak into a corner, and they’ll let me alone a bit;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The room is reeling round and round … O God, but I’m tired, I’m tired. …</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<hr/>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Roses she wore on her breast that night. Oh, but their scent was sweet;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Alone we sat on the balcony, and the fan-palms arched above;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>The witching strain of a waltz by Strauss came up to our cool retreat,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And I prisoned her little hand in mine, and I whispered my plea of love.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Then sudden the laughter died on her lips, and lowly she bent her head;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And oh, there came in the deep, dark eyes a look that was heaven to see</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And the moments went, and I waited there, and never a word was said,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And she plucked from her bosom a rose of red, and shyly gave it to me.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Then the music swelled to a crash of joy, and the lights blazed up like day;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And I held her fast to my throbbing heart, and I kissed her bonny brow;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>“She is mine, she is mine for evermore!” the violins seemed to say,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And the bells were ringing the New Year in—O God! I can hear them now.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Don’t you remember that long, last waltz, with its sobbing, sad refrain?</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Don’t you remember that last goodbye, and the dear eyes dim with tears?</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Don’t you remember that golden dream, with never a hint of pain,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Of lives that would blend like an angel-song in the bliss of the coming year?</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Oh, what have I lost! What have I lost! Ethel, forgive, forgive!</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The red, red rose is faded now, and it’s fifty years ago.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>’Twere better to die a thousand deaths than live each day as I live!</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">I have sinned, I have sunk to the lowest depths—but oh, I have suffered so!</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Hark! Oh hark! I can hear the bells! … Look! I can see her there,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Fair as a dream … but it fades … And now—I can hear the dreadful hum</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Of the crowded court … See! the Judge looks down … <strong>Not Guilty</strong>, my Lord, I swear …</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The bells, I can hear the bells again … Ethel, I come, I come! …</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<hr/>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>“Rouse up, old man, it’s twelve o’clock. You can’t sleep here, you know.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Say! ain’t you got no sentiment? Lift up your muddled head;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Have a drink to the glad New Year, a drop before you go—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">You darned old dirty hobo … My God! Here, boys! He’s <strong>dead</strong>!”</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</article>
|
||
<article id="comfort" epub:type="z3998:poem bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">Comfort</h2>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Say! You’ve struck a heap of trouble—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Bust in business, lost your wife;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>No one cares a cent about you,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">You don’t care a cent for life;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Hard luck has of hope bereft you,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Health is failing, wish you’d die—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Why, you’ve still the sunshine left you,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And the big, blue sky.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span class="i2">Sky so blue it makes you wonder</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i3">If it’s heaven shining through;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i2">Earth so smiling ’way out yonder,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i3">Sun so bright it dazzles you;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i2">Birds a-singing, flowers a-flinging</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i3">All their fragrance on the breeze;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i2">Dancing shadows, green, still meadows—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i3">Don’t you mope, you’ve still got these.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>These, and none can take them from you;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">These, and none can weigh their worth.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>What! you’re tired and broke and beaten?—</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Why, you’re rich—you’ve got the earth!</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Yes, if you’re a tramp in tatters,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">While the blue sky bends above,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>You’ve got nearly all that matters,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">You’ve got God, and God is love.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</article>
|
||
<article id="premonition" epub:type="z3998:poem bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">Premonition</h2>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>’Twas a year ago and the moon was bright</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">(Oh, I remember so well, so well),</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>I walked with my love in a sea of light,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And the voice of my sweet was a silver bell.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span class="i2">And sudden the moon grew strangely dull,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i3">And sudden my love had taken wing;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i2">I looked on the face of a grinning skull,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i3">I strained to my heart a ghastly thing.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>’Twas but fantasy, for my love lay still</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">In my arms with her tender eyes aglow,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>And she wondered why my lips were chill,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Why I was silent and kissed her so.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span class="i2">A year has gone and the moon is bright,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i3">A gibbous moon like a ghost of woe;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i2">I sit by a new-made grave tonight,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i3">And my heart is broken—it’s strange, you know.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</article>
|
||
<article id="the-tramps" epub:type="z3998:poem bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">The Tramps</h2>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Can you recall, dear comrade, when we tramped God’s land together,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And we sang the old, old Earth-song, for our youth was very sweet;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>When we drank and fought and lusted, as we mocked at tie and tether,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Along the road to Anywhere, the wide world at our feet.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Along the road to Anywhere, when each day had its story;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">When time was yet our vassal, and life’s jest was still unstale;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>When peace unfathomed filled our hearts as, bathed in amber glory,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Along the road to Anywhere we watched the sunsets pale.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Alas! the road to Anywhere is pitfalled with disaster;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">There’s hunger, want, and weariness, yet O we loved it so!</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>As on we tramped exultantly, and no man was our master,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">And no man guessed what dreams were ours, as swinging heel and toe,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>We tramped the road to Anywhere, the magic road to Anywhere,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">The tragic road to Anywhere, such dear, dim years ago.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</article>
|
||
<article id="l-envoi" epub:type="z3998:poem epilogue bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||
<h2 lang="fr" epub:type="title" xml:lang="fr">L’Envoi</h2>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>You who have lived in the Land,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">You who have trusted the trail;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>You who are strong to withstand,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">You who are swift to assail;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Songs have I sung to beguile,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Vintage of desperate years</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Hard as a harlot’s smile,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Bitter as unshed tears.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span class="i4">Little of joy or mirth,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i5">Little of ease I sing;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i4">Sagas of men of earth,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i5">Humanly suffering,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i4">Such as you all have done;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i5">Savagely faring forth,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i4">Sons of the midnight sun,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i5">Argonauts of the North.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>Far in the land God forgot</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Glimmers the lure of your trail;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Still in your lust are you taught</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Even to win is to fail.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>Still must you follow and fight</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Under the vampire wing;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>There in the long, long night</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i1">Hoping and vanquishing.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span class="i4">Husbandmen of the Wild,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i5">Reaping a barren gain;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i4">Scourged by desire, reconciled</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i5">Unto disaster and pain;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i4">These my songs are for you,</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i5">You who are seared with the brand:</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i4">God knows I have tried to be true;</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span class="i5">Please God you will understand.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</article>
|
||
<section id="colophon" epub:type="colophon backmatter">
|
||
<header>
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">Colophon</h2>
|
||
<img alt="The Standard Ebooks logo." 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epub:type="z3998:publisher-logo se:image.color-depth.black-on-transparent"/>
|
||
</header>
|
||
<p><i epub:type="se:name.publication.book">Songs of a Sourdough</i><br/>
|
||
was published in <time>1907</time> by<br/>
|
||
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_W._Service">Robert <abbr epub:type="z3998:given-name">W.</abbr> Service</a>.</p>
|
||
<p>This ebook was produced for<br/>
|
||
<a href="https://standardebooks.org/">Standard Ebooks</a><br/>
|
||
by<br/>
|
||
<a href="https://github.com/hallidave">Dave Halliday</a>,<br/>
|
||
and is based on a transcription produced in <time>2008</time> by<br/>
|
||
<b epub:type="z3998:personal-name">David Clarke</b>, <b epub:type="z3998:personal-name">Stephen Blundell</b>, and <a href="https://www.pgdp.net/">Distributed Proofreaders</a><br/>
|
||
for<br/>
|
||
<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25546">Project Gutenberg</a><br/>
|
||
and on digital scans from the<br/>
|
||
<a href="https://archive.org/details/songsofsourdoug00serv">Internet Archive</a>.</p>
|
||
<p>The cover page is adapted from<br/>
|
||
<i epub:type="se:name.visual-art.painting">Snow <span epub:type="z3998:roman">II</span></i>,<br/>
|
||
a painting completed in <time>1915</time> by<br/>
|
||
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lawren_Harris">Lawren Harris</a>.<br/>
|
||
The cover and title pages feature the<br/>
|
||
<b epub:type="se:name.visual-art.typeface">League Spartan</b> and <b epub:type="se:name.visual-art.typeface">Sorts Mill Goudy</b><br/>
|
||
typefaces created in <time>2014</time> and <time>2009</time> by<br/>
|
||
<a href="https://www.theleagueofmoveabletype.com/">The League of Moveable Type</a>.</p>
|
||
<p>The first edition of this ebook was released on<br/>
|
||
<time datetime="2019-07-02T16:31:22Z">July 2, 2019, 4:31 <abbr class="eoc">p.m.</abbr></time><br/>
|
||
You can check for updates to this ebook, view its revision history, or download it for different ereading systems at<br/>
|
||
<a href="https://standardebooks.org/ebooks/robert-w-service/songs-of-a-sourdough">standardebooks.org/ebooks/robert-w-service/songs-of-a-sourdough</a>.</p>
|
||
<p>The volunteer-driven Standard Ebooks project relies on readers like you to submit typos, corrections, and other improvements. Anyone can contribute at <a href="https://standardebooks.org/">standardebooks.org</a>.</p>
|
||
</section>
|
||
<section id="uncopyright" epub:type="copyright-page backmatter">
|
||
<h2 epub:type="title">Uncopyright</h2>
|
||
<blockquote epub:type="z3998:verse">
|
||
<p>
|
||
<span>May you do good and not evil.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>May you find forgiveness for yourself and forgive others.</span>
|
||
<br/>
|
||
<span>May you share freely, never taking more than you give.</span>
|
||
</p>
|
||
</blockquote>
|
||
<p>Copyright pages exist to tell you that you <em>can’t</em> do something. Unlike them, this Uncopyright page exists to tell you that the writing and artwork in this ebook are believed to be in the United States public domain; that is, they are believed to be free of copyright restrictions in the United States. The United States public domain represents our collective cultural heritage, and items in it are free for anyone in the United States to do almost anything at all with, without having to get permission.</p>
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