 | Poems |  |
POLAR DAYS.
As some poor piteous Lapp., who under firsWhich bend and break with load of arctic snows
Has crept and crouched to watch when crimson glows
Begin, feels in his veins the thrilling stirs
Of warmer life, e'en while his fear deters
His trust; and when the orange turns to rose
In vain, and widening to the westward goes
The ruddy beam and fades, heartsick defers
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Of sunless day;—
So watching, one by one,
The faintest glimmers of the morn's gray light,
The sleepless exiled heart waits for the bright
Full day, and hopes till all its hours are done,
That the next one will bring its love, its sun.
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