Poems (Jackson)/Polar Days
POLAR DAYS.
S some poor piteous Lapp., who under firsWhich bend and break with load of arctic snowsHas crept and crouched to watch when crimson glowsBegin, feels in his veins the thrilling stirsOf warmer life, e'en while his fear detersHis trust; and when the orange turns to roseIn vain, and widening to the westward goesThe ruddy beam and fades, heartsick defers His hope, and shivers through one more long nightOf sunless day;—Of sunless day;—So watching, one by one,The faintest glimmers of the morn's gray light,The sleepless exiled heart waits for the brightFull day, and hopes till all its hours are done,That the next one will bring its love, its sun.