A Polar Word

TWO POEMS

A POLAR WORD

These I elected, these I chose:

The north wind and the bitter snows,

The east wind and the icy rain.

Never again, oh, never again

The warm south wind, the genial sun,

The western air when day is done!

These blow indeed in other climes,

But not for me, nor for my times.

There was a region lying south

Untouched of storm, unstirred of drouth,

Where the great meadows, facing west

Were always fertile, always blest;

None hungered there, nor was afraid,

And if he sought it, there was shade

Which his own honest effort made.

O lost, beloved homeland! Where-

Soever now I needs must fare,

Whatever ill my heart contends,

What wealth of foes, what dearth of friends,

Still shall my arm be sinewed strong,

Still shall I fight, these foes among,

For your sweet sake who understood

How men may leave the heart's best good

For sterner issues, bearing thence

Their own inviolate consequence.

Drive harder, wind! Pierce colder, frost!

O sullen skies, I am not lost!

Derange my compass, still my goal

Shall be the same uncharted pole

Which I shall find, where I shall stand

With truth and love on either hand,

The taste of honey in my mouth,

And every needle pointing south!

IN THE PARK