GOOD it is when northern winds come blowing from the ice and bear, Shouting round the lofty steeple till the opal stars can hear; Good it is in shifting dusks to feel the polar thunder-flail Lashing at the weary forehead with its knots of biting hail: Hurricances that blow the foxes over leagues toward their prey, Roaring sagas of the mainland, songs of crashing ice at play; Hurricanes with ghostly chorus of the Norsemen grim and stark Hurling oaths at giant foemen hacking furious in the dark. In the lulls between the wrangle of the tempest and the floe Sweet it is to fancy love-songs of the patient Eskimo. Speeding, warm at heart, across the rugged purity of plain, Love beneath his furs as constant as beneath the ice the main. How I joy to hear the sinews of the god of northern blast Crackle as his fingers fasten on the icy hilt and vast! Rushing over wold and valley, dusky dells and uplands bleak, How he flings his frozen gauntlet at the challenge of my cheek! Could he dash the dew about me from the blooms of other stars, Pansies from the lap of Venus, speary rushes down from Mars, More I'd love his gusty onset than the woman-breeze that brings Scent of harems and the radiant Persian roses on its wings. Northland god, your tears of fury drive upon my freshened cheeks While the roadside branch above me writhes in agony and creaks. As we wrestle at the midnight, breast to breast, and hand to hand, Care and pain depart like swallows lifting to a friendly land. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PROMETHEUS by GEORGE GORDON BYRON REVELATION by EDMUND WILLIAM GOSSE THE HERONS OF ELMWOOD by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW MY LOVE by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL INSOMNIA by EDITH MATILDA THOMAS ROSAMUND: ROSAMOND'S SONG by JOSEPH ADDISON |