Classic Poem

A Boreal moon pours beam on silver beam,
Far on the northern fiords all still and cold,
The rime-tipped pines on snow-encrusted wold
Stand up like sentinels on mere and stream;

While over Norseland, with vague eyes of gold,
The freezing stars gaze solemnly and dream—
White dreams of frost, pale, chilly dreams that teem
With memories of bleak icebergs southward rolled.

Within a cot, a distaff by her side,
A maiden watches the sad, hueless skies!
Long flaxen hair, knotted in tresses wide,
Is tinged by moonbeams as they fall and rise,
While all their cold-hued pearliness has dyed
Clear sparks of silver in her icy eyes.