Were you ever out in the Great Alone,
when the moon was awful clear,
And the icy mountains hemmed you in
with a silence you most could hear;
With only the howl of the timber wolf,
and you camped there in the cold,
A half-dead thing in a stark, dead world,
clean mad for the muck called gold;
While high overhead, green yellow and red,
the North Lights swept in bars?--
Then you've a hunch what the music meant . . .
hunger and night and the stars.
................From `The Shooting of Dan McGrew' by Robert Service
They rippled green with a wonderous sheen,
they fluttered out like a fan;
They spread the blaze of rose-pink rays
never yet seen of man.
They writhed like a brood of angry snakes,
hissing and sulphur pale;
Then swift they changed to a dragon vast,
lashing a cloven tale.
...............From `The Ballad of the Northern Lights' by Robert Service