Login
|
Join PoetrySoup
Home
Submit Poems
Login
Sign Up
Member Home
My Poems
My Quotes
My Profile & Settings
My Inboxes
My Outboxes
Soup Mail
Contest Results/Status
Contests
Poems
Poets
Famous Poems
Famous Poets
Dictionary
Types of Poems
Quotes
Short Stories
Articles
Forum
Blogs
Poem of the Day
New Poems
Resources
Syllable Counter
Anthology
Grammar Check
Greeting Card Maker
Classifieds
Member Area
Member Home
My Profile and Settings
My Poems
My Quotes
My Short Stories
My Articles
My Comments Inboxes
My Comments Outboxes
Soup Mail
Poetry Contests
Contest Results/Status
Followers
Poems of Poets I Follow
Friend Builder
Soup Social
Poetry Forum
New/Upcoming Features
The Wall
Soup Facebook Page
Who is Online
Link to Us
Member Poems
Poems - Top 100 New
Poems - Top 100 All-Time
Poems - Best
Poems - by Topic
Poems - New (All)
Poems - New (PM)
Poems - New by Poet
Poems - Random
Poems - Read
Poems - Unread
Member Poets
Poets - Best New
Poets - New
Poets - Top 100 Most Poems
Poets - Top 100 Most Poems Recent
Poets - Top 100 Community
Poets - Top 100 Contest
Famous Poems
Famous Poems - African American
Famous Poems - Best
Famous Poems - Classical
Famous Poems - English
Famous Poems - Haiku
Famous Poems - Love
Famous Poems - Short
Famous Poems - Top 100
Famous Poets
Famous Poets - Living
Famous Poets - Most Popular
Famous Poets - Top 100
Famous Poets - Best
Famous Poets - Women
Famous Poets - African American
Famous Poets - Beat
Famous Poets - Cinquain
Famous Poets - Classical
Famous Poets - English
Famous Poets - Haiku
Famous Poets - Hindi
Famous Poets - Jewish
Famous Poets - Love
Famous Poets - Metaphysical
Famous Poets - Modern
Famous Poets - Punjabi
Famous Poets - Romantic
Famous Poets - Spanish
Famous Poets - Suicidal
Famous Poets - Urdu
Famous Poets - War
Poetry Resources
Anagrams
Bible
Book Store
Character Counter
Cliché Finder
Poetry Clichés
Common Words
Copyright Information
Grammar
Grammar Checker
Homonym
Homophones
How to Write a Poem
Lyrics
Love Poem Generator
New Poetic Forms
Plagiarism Checker
Poetics
Poetry Art
Publishing
Random Word Generator
Spell Checker
Store
What is Good Poetry?
Word Counter
Email Poem
Your IP Address: 3.144.102.239
From Email:
Required
Email Address Not Valid.
To Email:
Email Address Not Valid.
Required
Subject
Required
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
"Black is the sky, but the land is white-- (O the wind, the snow and the storm!)-- Father, where is our boy to-night? Pray to God he is safe and warm." "Mother, mother, why should you fear? Safe is he, and the Arctic moon Over his cabin shines so clear-- Rest and sleep, 'twill be morning soon." "It's getting dark awful sudden. Say, this is mighty queer! Where in the world have I got to? It's still and black as a tomb. I reckoned the camp was yonder, I figured the trail was here-- Nothing! Just draw and valley packed with quiet and gloom; Snow that comes down like feathers, thick and gobby and gray; Night that looks spiteful ugly--seems that I've lost my way. "The cold's got an edge like a jackknife--it must be forty below; Leastways that's what it seems like--it cuts so fierce to the bone. The wind's getting real ferocious; it's heaving and whirling the snow; It shrieks with a howl of fury, it dies away to a moan; Its arms sweep round like a banshee's, swift and icily white, And buffet and blind and beat me. Lord! it's a hell of a night. "I'm all tangled up in a blizzard. There's only one thing to do-- Keep on moving and moving; it's death, it's death if I rest. Oh, God! if I see the morning, if only I struggle through, I'll say the prayers I've forgotten since I lay on my mother's breast. I seem going round in a circle; maybe the camp is near. Say! did somebody holler? Was it a light I saw? Or was it only a notion? I'll shout, and maybe they'll hear-- No! the wind only drowns me--shout till my throat is raw. "The boys are all round the camp-fire wondering when I'll be back. They'll soon be starting to seek me; they'll scarcely wait for the light. What will they find, I wonder, when they come to the end of my track-- A hand stuck out of a snowdrift, frozen and stiff and white. That's what they'll strike, I reckon; that's how they'll find their pard, A pie-faced corpse in a snowbank--curse you, don't be a fool! Play the game to the finish; bet on your very last card; Nerve yourself for the struggle. Oh, you coward, keep cool! I'm going to lick this blizzard; I'm going to live the night. It can't down me with its bluster--I'm not the kind to be beat. On hands and knees will I buck it; with every breath will I fight; It's life, it's life that I fight for--never it seemed so sweet. I know that my face is frozen; my hands are numblike and dead; But oh, my feet keep a-moving, heavy and hard and slow; They're trying to kill me, kill me, the night that's black overhead, The wind that cuts like a razor, the whipcord lash of the snow. Keep a-moving, a-moving; don't, don't stumble, you fool! Curse this snow that's a-piling a-purpose to block my way. It's heavy as gold in the rocker, it's white and fleecy as wool; It's soft as a bed of feathers, it's warm as a stack of hay. Curse on my feet that slip so, my poor tired, stumbling feet; I guess they're a job for the surgeon, they feel so queerlike to lift-- I'll rest them just for a moment--oh, but to rest is sweet! The awful wind cannot get me, deep, deep down in the drift." "Father, a bitter cry I heard, Out of the night so dark and wild. Why is my heart so strangely stirred? 'Twas like the voice of our erring child." "Mother, mother, you only heard A waterfowl in the locked lagoon-- Out of the night a wounded bird-- Rest and sleep, 'twill be morning soon." Who is it talks of sleeping? I'll swear that somebody shook Me hard by the arm for a moment, but how on earth could it be? See how my feet are moving--awfully funny they look-- Moving as if they belonged to a someone that wasn't me. The wind down the night's long alley bowls me down like a pin; I stagger and fall and stagger, crawl arm-deep in the snow. Beaten back to my corner, how can I hope to win? And there is the blizzard waiting to give me the knockout blow. Oh, I'm so warm and sleepy! No more hunger and pain. Just to rest for a moment; was ever rest such a joy? Ha! what was that? I'll swear it, somebody shook me again; Somebody seemed to whisper: "Fight to the last, my boy." Fight! That's right, I must struggle. I know that to rest means death; Death, but then what does death mean? --ease from a world of strife. Life has been none too pleasant; yet with my failing breath Still and still must I struggle, fight for the gift of life. * * * * * Seems that I must be dreaming! Here is the old home trail; Yonder a light is gleaming; oh, I know it so well! The air is scented with clover; the cattle wait by the rail; Father is through with the milking; there goes the supper-bell. * * * * * Mother, your boy is crying, out in the night and cold; Let me in and forgive me, I'll never be bad any more: I'm, oh, so sick and so sorry: please, dear mother, don't scold-- It's just your boy, and he wants you. . . . Mother, open the door. . . . "Father, father, I saw a face Pressed just now to the window-pane! Oh, it gazed for a moment's space, Wild and wan, and was gone again!" "Mother, mother, you saw the snow Drifted down from the maple tree (Oh, the wind that is sobbing so! Weary and worn and old are we)-- Only the snow and a wounded loon-- Rest and sleep, 'twill be morning soon."
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required