The Spell of the Yukon and Other Poems
Robert Service
- 128 pages
- English
- ePUB (mobile friendly)
- Available on iOS & Android
The Spell of the Yukon and Other Poems
Robert Service
About This Book
`There are strange things done in the midnight sun,` declared Robert Service as he related the fulfillment of a dying prospector's request. `The Cremation of Sam McGee` was based on one of many peculiar tales he heard upon his 1904 arrival in the Canadian frontier town of Whitehorse. Less than a decade after the Klondike gold rush, many natives and transplants remained to tell stories of the boom towns that sprang up with the sudden influx of miners, gamblers, barflies, and other fortune-seekers. Service's compelling verses — populated by One-Eyed Mike, Dangerous Dan McGrew, and other colorful characters — recapture the era's venturesome spirit and vitality.
In this, his best-remembered work, the `common man's poet` and `Canadian Kipling` presents thirty-four verses that celebrate the rugged natural beauty of the frozen North and the warm humanity of its denizens. Verses include `The Shooting of Dan McGrew` (`A bunch of the boys were whooping it up in the Malamute saloon`), `The Heart of the Sourdough` (`There where the mighty mountains bare their fangs unto the moon`), and `The Call of the Wild` (Have you gazed on naked grandeur where there's nothing else to gaze on`). Generations have fallen under the spell of these poems, which continue to enchant readers of all ages.
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THE CREMATION OF SAM McGEE
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.
the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the South to roam
āround the Pole, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed
to hold him like a spell;
Though heād often say in his homely way that
āheād sooner live in hell.ā
over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parkaās fold it
stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes weād close, then the lashes froze till
sometimes we couldnāt see;
It wasnāt much fun, but the only one to whimper
was Sam McGee.
our robes beneath the snow,
And the dogs were fed, and the stars oāerhead
were dancing heel and toe,
He turned to me, and āCap,ā says he, āIāll cash
in this trip, I guess;
And if I do, Iām asking that you wonāt refuse my
last request.ā
then he says with a sort of moan:
āItās the cursed cold, and itās got right hold till
Iām chilled clean through to the bone.
the icy grave that pains;
So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, youāll
cremate my last remains.ā
I would not fail;
And we started on at the streak of dawn; but
God! he looked ghastly pale.
He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day
of his home in Tennessee;
And before nightfall a corpse was all that was
left of Sam McGee.
I hurried, horror-driven,
With a corpse half hid that I couldnāt get rid,
because of a promise given;
It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say:
āYou may tax your brawn and brains,
But you promised true, and itās up to you to
cremate those last remains.ā
trail has its own stern code.
In the days to come, though my lips were dumb,
in my heart how I cursed that load.
In the long, long night, by the lone firelight,
while the huskies, round in a ring,
Howled out their woes to the homeless snows
ā O God! how I loathed the thing.
and heavier grow;
And on I went, though the dogs were spent and
the grub was getting low;
The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I
swore I would not give in ;
And Iād often sing to the hateful thing, and it
hearkened with a grin.
a derelict there lay;
It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it
was called the āAlice May.ā
And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I
looked at my frozen chum;
Then āHere,ā said I, with a sudden cry, āis
my cre-ma-tor-eum.ā
lit the boiler fire;
Some coal I found that was lying around, and I
heaped the fuel higher;
The flames just soared, and the furnace roared
ā such a blaze you seldom see;
And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and
I stuffed in Sam McGee.
sizzle so;
And the heavens scowled, and the huskies
howled, and the wind began to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my
cheeks, and I donāt know why;
And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went
streaking down the sky.
with grisly fear;
But the stars came out and they danced about
ere again I ventured near;
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: āIāll
just take a peep inside.
I guess heās cooked, and itās time I looked ā; . . .
then the door I opened wide.
heart of the furnace roar;
And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and
he said: āPlease close that door.
Itās fine in here, but I greatly fear youāll let in
the cold and storm ā
Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, itās
the first time Iāve been warm.ā