The Chilcoot Pass
1
F AR up the Chilcoot Heights! The solid snow,
Avalanch'd from Titan peaks that rise
In stony isolation 'gainst the skies,
Hath whelm'd all in soundless overthrow;
And almost now the white and crusted mass
Hath choked the glacier's ghastly blue crevasse
That cleaves to everlasting cold below:
The wintry day declines; and down the Pass,
Where Time hath fallen, desolate, asleep,
To mark the flight of Arctic hours gigantic shadows creep.
2
But see! Upon that perilous, meagre trail,
There winding upward to a dazzling crest,
A miner inward-bound on Fortune's quest!
And tho' the sunlight's slanting weak and pale,
Tho' in the livid clouds a tempest lours,
And far above him yet the Summit towers,
He sees therein no sight to make him quail; —
'Gainst any steep he'd pit his stubborn powers;
He goes, as dauntless men have gone of old,
To play with Death in a land unknown for a stake of love and gold.
3
Steady he's toil'd for hours; at last he makes
A moment's pause to shift his heavy pack,
The twisted straps chafe sore upon his back,
And with hard travel all his body aches.
But now it is he notes with some dismay
What little measure's left him of the day,
And how the air's ablur with thin, white flakes;
Yet up the Pass he takes one quick survey,
Then grimly on he goes with hastening stride,
For he must be over the Summit by night — he will sleep on the other side.
4
Let others lag; he'll on with the first of the rush!
Down rivers roaring into deserts bleak,
He'll pioneer his way to the richest creek —
He'll cut and thaw the frozen earth — he'll crush
Its hoarded treasure out — and he'll call his claim
" The Little Annie! " For him that simple name
Lights up a dream of home returning flush
With store of yellow gold and golden fame;
Bringing back the happy days once more
To a little girl left lonely on the lone Lake Erie shore.
5
The gloom is deepening where the sunlight was;
The flakes are falling faster now around;
Far off he hears a shrill, foreboding sound,
And at its challenge makes another pause.
Awhile irresolute, with anxious eye,
He gazes at the menace of the sky,
And from its hue reluctant warning draws:
The storm is nigh — he little dreams how nigh —
When cursing his labor lost he turns to go
Down again for shelter to the cabin far below.
6
Save your curses, man! You walk o'erbold!
You go too slow and sullen down that path!
You may not live and brave the coming wrath
In those tumultuous clouds above you roll'd!
Save your curses, man! — for now you'll need
Every breath your body has for speed;
E'en now the air is struck with deathlier cold;
E'en now the foremost furious winds are freed;
Look! — look above you there at last,
And see the Heavens whirling downward, vague and white and vast!
7
So — he knows! — too late, alas, he knows
His fierce pursuers, and with desperate leap
Goes plunging madly down the uncertain steep —
Down for his life! Frantic now, he throws
His dragging pack away — his senses swim
With swift descent — the storm's o'ertaking him —
The drift in stinging clouds around him blows
To make him gasp and choke — his eyes grow dim —
Unto his very bones the cold he feels; —
But down and down that fatal Pass, tho' dazed he leaps and reels!
8
Far up the Chilcoot Heights! The storm is on:
He's struggling still, but now he's lost the trail,
And all his sturdy muscles flag and fail,
'Mid swirling snow, to shapes fantastic drawn
That pass like endless fleeing ghosts; and each,
In passing, seems to hiss at him and reach
Long throttling fingers out; sight is gone,
For his eyes see only white; hark! the screech
Of Arctic winds swift leaping from the sky
Down like the souls of famish'd wolves — " O Annie, lass! — good-bye!
9.
" For now I'm play'd right out — I'm freezing fast —
I'm on the spot where I'll for ever lie,
Just when I thought my chance had come — good-bye!
Good-bye! my life is over now and past!
And it's been no use, tho' I've tried everywhere
To do the best I could, and do it square,
God's kept his grudge against me to the last,
And I've stood it now so long, I hardly care!
Let Him finish me up, right here, if He likes, and hurl
What's left of me to Hell! — But you! — O Annie — my orphan girl! "
10
White, white, white — all 'round 'tis white —
Blind white and cold; — unheard is hurl'd
His last appeal 'gainst this relentless World:
No rescue now may come — no swift respite:
The minutes of his life are almost o'er.
He knows it well; — see, he moves no more!
Body and soul can make no further fight,
Bewilder'd in the blizzard's maddening roar;
But he's facing it — he's standing rigid there —
Defying Heaven's utmost wrath in reason-rack'd despair!
11
" Blow, then, damn you — blow! You've taken all!
You — whatever Thing you are that hears —
You've never once let up on me for years!
You've stript me stark and bare as a wooden doll!
And there's not a rag of comfort left! You've blown
Every joy and every hope I've known
Roughly from my life! And when I fall,
You'll howl above me, dying here alone!
Pile on — pile on, with your blasted, strangling snow!
You can take no more but my life now! Blow! God damn you — blow! "
12
White, white, white, — unceasing white!
See! he totters, yielding to his doom —
The snow hath ready made his shroud and tomb:
But what is that? There breaks a sudden light
That startles him to last delirious cries; —
Pinnacled athwart the awful skies,
Behold a treasure-lode, uncovered bright
In transient glory to his dying eyes!
On a towering peak the sunset clouds unroll'd,
And he's gasping at the cruel splendor — " Gold — gold — gold! "
13
Far up the Chilcoot Heights! A prostrate form,
Half-buried now and motionless, doth lie
All free of pain — and, happily, to die.
Listen! He's muttering thro' the passing storm:
" Home again, Annie — home again!
God! but it's restful — after that rattling train!
It's all so still and sunny here — and so warm!
How was it I came so soon? I can't explain —
Only I know I'm home; and O! it seems
Too good to be true! Doesn't it, lass? And it's finer than all my dreams!
14
" You've grown so pretty since I've been away —
So tall and pretty — I almost seem to see
Your mother smiling there again at me,
Just like she look'd upon her wedding-day! —
A year before they laid her 'neath the grass,
And left me only you, my little lass!
Come closer to me — things grow dull and grey; —
My eyes were hurt in a blizzard on the Pass
The year I went away and left you, Pet!
What's making it dark so early, Annie? Surely it's not night yet?
15
" O! well — no matter! Whatever time it be,
I'm one of the lucky ones, I've made my pile,
And I'm going to take it easy for awhile.
No more work or worry now for me;
I've lots of gold — as yellow as your curls;
And I'll dress you fine again like the other girls,
And get you everything you want — you'll see!
A ring like mother had — and a collar of pearls; —
And I'll buy — I'll buy the old home back — that they sold!
But it's made your daddy old, dear — it's made him feel so old!
16
" Yes, I hear you laughing at me now!
But O! it's good to hear you laugh again!
To have you near and have you laugh — and then,
I must look kind of funny, I'll allow;
These clothes of mine are all so patch'd and queer!
But I'll have better ones to-morrow, dear; —
And I know you love your old dad, anyhow!
I feel so tired, I think I'll sleep just here: —
Kiss me, Annie! — there — good-night, my lass! "
God rest the souls of the dead who lie on the
Heights of the Chilcoot Pass!
F AR up the Chilcoot Heights! The solid snow,
Avalanch'd from Titan peaks that rise
In stony isolation 'gainst the skies,
Hath whelm'd all in soundless overthrow;
And almost now the white and crusted mass
Hath choked the glacier's ghastly blue crevasse
That cleaves to everlasting cold below:
The wintry day declines; and down the Pass,
Where Time hath fallen, desolate, asleep,
To mark the flight of Arctic hours gigantic shadows creep.
2
But see! Upon that perilous, meagre trail,
There winding upward to a dazzling crest,
A miner inward-bound on Fortune's quest!
And tho' the sunlight's slanting weak and pale,
Tho' in the livid clouds a tempest lours,
And far above him yet the Summit towers,
He sees therein no sight to make him quail; —
'Gainst any steep he'd pit his stubborn powers;
He goes, as dauntless men have gone of old,
To play with Death in a land unknown for a stake of love and gold.
3
Steady he's toil'd for hours; at last he makes
A moment's pause to shift his heavy pack,
The twisted straps chafe sore upon his back,
And with hard travel all his body aches.
But now it is he notes with some dismay
What little measure's left him of the day,
And how the air's ablur with thin, white flakes;
Yet up the Pass he takes one quick survey,
Then grimly on he goes with hastening stride,
For he must be over the Summit by night — he will sleep on the other side.
4
Let others lag; he'll on with the first of the rush!
Down rivers roaring into deserts bleak,
He'll pioneer his way to the richest creek —
He'll cut and thaw the frozen earth — he'll crush
Its hoarded treasure out — and he'll call his claim
" The Little Annie! " For him that simple name
Lights up a dream of home returning flush
With store of yellow gold and golden fame;
Bringing back the happy days once more
To a little girl left lonely on the lone Lake Erie shore.
5
The gloom is deepening where the sunlight was;
The flakes are falling faster now around;
Far off he hears a shrill, foreboding sound,
And at its challenge makes another pause.
Awhile irresolute, with anxious eye,
He gazes at the menace of the sky,
And from its hue reluctant warning draws:
The storm is nigh — he little dreams how nigh —
When cursing his labor lost he turns to go
Down again for shelter to the cabin far below.
6
Save your curses, man! You walk o'erbold!
You go too slow and sullen down that path!
You may not live and brave the coming wrath
In those tumultuous clouds above you roll'd!
Save your curses, man! — for now you'll need
Every breath your body has for speed;
E'en now the air is struck with deathlier cold;
E'en now the foremost furious winds are freed;
Look! — look above you there at last,
And see the Heavens whirling downward, vague and white and vast!
7
So — he knows! — too late, alas, he knows
His fierce pursuers, and with desperate leap
Goes plunging madly down the uncertain steep —
Down for his life! Frantic now, he throws
His dragging pack away — his senses swim
With swift descent — the storm's o'ertaking him —
The drift in stinging clouds around him blows
To make him gasp and choke — his eyes grow dim —
Unto his very bones the cold he feels; —
But down and down that fatal Pass, tho' dazed he leaps and reels!
8
Far up the Chilcoot Heights! The storm is on:
He's struggling still, but now he's lost the trail,
And all his sturdy muscles flag and fail,
'Mid swirling snow, to shapes fantastic drawn
That pass like endless fleeing ghosts; and each,
In passing, seems to hiss at him and reach
Long throttling fingers out; sight is gone,
For his eyes see only white; hark! the screech
Of Arctic winds swift leaping from the sky
Down like the souls of famish'd wolves — " O Annie, lass! — good-bye!
9.
" For now I'm play'd right out — I'm freezing fast —
I'm on the spot where I'll for ever lie,
Just when I thought my chance had come — good-bye!
Good-bye! my life is over now and past!
And it's been no use, tho' I've tried everywhere
To do the best I could, and do it square,
God's kept his grudge against me to the last,
And I've stood it now so long, I hardly care!
Let Him finish me up, right here, if He likes, and hurl
What's left of me to Hell! — But you! — O Annie — my orphan girl! "
10
White, white, white — all 'round 'tis white —
Blind white and cold; — unheard is hurl'd
His last appeal 'gainst this relentless World:
No rescue now may come — no swift respite:
The minutes of his life are almost o'er.
He knows it well; — see, he moves no more!
Body and soul can make no further fight,
Bewilder'd in the blizzard's maddening roar;
But he's facing it — he's standing rigid there —
Defying Heaven's utmost wrath in reason-rack'd despair!
11
" Blow, then, damn you — blow! You've taken all!
You — whatever Thing you are that hears —
You've never once let up on me for years!
You've stript me stark and bare as a wooden doll!
And there's not a rag of comfort left! You've blown
Every joy and every hope I've known
Roughly from my life! And when I fall,
You'll howl above me, dying here alone!
Pile on — pile on, with your blasted, strangling snow!
You can take no more but my life now! Blow! God damn you — blow! "
12
White, white, white, — unceasing white!
See! he totters, yielding to his doom —
The snow hath ready made his shroud and tomb:
But what is that? There breaks a sudden light
That startles him to last delirious cries; —
Pinnacled athwart the awful skies,
Behold a treasure-lode, uncovered bright
In transient glory to his dying eyes!
On a towering peak the sunset clouds unroll'd,
And he's gasping at the cruel splendor — " Gold — gold — gold! "
13
Far up the Chilcoot Heights! A prostrate form,
Half-buried now and motionless, doth lie
All free of pain — and, happily, to die.
Listen! He's muttering thro' the passing storm:
" Home again, Annie — home again!
God! but it's restful — after that rattling train!
It's all so still and sunny here — and so warm!
How was it I came so soon? I can't explain —
Only I know I'm home; and O! it seems
Too good to be true! Doesn't it, lass? And it's finer than all my dreams!
14
" You've grown so pretty since I've been away —
So tall and pretty — I almost seem to see
Your mother smiling there again at me,
Just like she look'd upon her wedding-day! —
A year before they laid her 'neath the grass,
And left me only you, my little lass!
Come closer to me — things grow dull and grey; —
My eyes were hurt in a blizzard on the Pass
The year I went away and left you, Pet!
What's making it dark so early, Annie? Surely it's not night yet?
15
" O! well — no matter! Whatever time it be,
I'm one of the lucky ones, I've made my pile,
And I'm going to take it easy for awhile.
No more work or worry now for me;
I've lots of gold — as yellow as your curls;
And I'll dress you fine again like the other girls,
And get you everything you want — you'll see!
A ring like mother had — and a collar of pearls; —
And I'll buy — I'll buy the old home back — that they sold!
But it's made your daddy old, dear — it's made him feel so old!
16
" Yes, I hear you laughing at me now!
But O! it's good to hear you laugh again!
To have you near and have you laugh — and then,
I must look kind of funny, I'll allow;
These clothes of mine are all so patch'd and queer!
But I'll have better ones to-morrow, dear; —
And I know you love your old dad, anyhow!
I feel so tired, I think I'll sleep just here: —
Kiss me, Annie! — there — good-night, my lass! "
God rest the souls of the dead who lie on the
Heights of the Chilcoot Pass!
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