Home ⇒ 📌Helen Hunt Jackson ⇒ An Arctic Quest
An Arctic Quest
O proudly name their names who bravely sail
To seek brave lost in Arctic snows and seas!
Bring money and bring ships, and on strong knees
Pray prayers so strong that not one word can fail
To pierce God’s listening heart!
Rigid and pale,
The lost men’s bodies, waiting, drift and freeze;
Yet shall their solemn dead lips tell to these
Who find them secrets mighty to prevail
On farther, darker, icier seas.
I go
Alone, unhelped, unprayed-for. Perishing
For years in realms of more than Arctic snow,
My heart has lingered.
Will the poor dead thing
Be sign to quide past bitter flood and floe,
To open sea, some strong heart triumphing?
(1 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)
Related poetry:
- Death In The Arctic I I took the clock down from the shelf; “At eight,” said I, “I shoot myself.” It lacked a minute of the hour, And as I waited all a-cower, A skinful of black, boding pain, Bits of my life came back again. . . . “Mother, there’s nothing more to eat Why don’t you go […]...
- As if some little Arctic flower As if some little Arctic flower Upon the polar hem Went wandering down the Latitudes Until it puzzled came To continents of summer To firmaments of sun To strange, bright crowds of flowers And birds, of foreign tongue! I say, As if this little flower To Eden, wandered in What then? Why nothing, Only, your […]...
- The Quest I sought Him on the purple seas, I sought Him on the peaks aflame; Amid the gloom of giant trees And canyons lone I called His name; The wasted ways of earth I trod: In vain! In vain! I found not God. I sought Him in the hives of men, The cities grand, the hamlets […]...
- The Quest Eternal O west of all that a man holds dear, on the edge of the Kingdom Come, Where carriage is far too high for beer, and the pubs keep only rum, On the sunburnt ways of the Outer Back, on the plains of the darkening scrub, I have followed the wandering teamster’s track, and it always […]...
- K. A Like this morning when white was all over I was the snow, you the soil. When my sun rises I don’t mind perishing As long as I can embrace you till the end And my heart can shout loud: I have loved....
- On the March So the time seems come at last, And the drums go rolling past, And above them in the sunlight Labour’s banners float and flow; They are marching with the sun, But I look in vain for one Of the men who fought for freedom more than fifteen years ago. They were men who did the […]...
- To a Usurper Aha! a traitor in the camp, A rebel strangely bold, A lisping, laughing, toddling scamp, Not more than four years old! To think that I, who’ve ruled alone So proudly in the past, Should be ejected from my throne By my own son at last! He trots his treason to and fro, As only babies […]...
- The Death of the Old Mendicant There was a rich old gentleman Lived on a lonely moor in Switzerland, And he was very hard to the wandering poor, ‘Tis said he never lodged nor served them at his door. ‘Twas on a stormy night, and Boreas blew a bitter blast, And the snowflakes they fell thick and fast, When a poor […]...
- Memory When I was young my heart and head were light, And I was gay and feckless as a colt Out in the fields, with morning in the may, Wind on the grass, wings in the orchard bloom. O thrilling sweet, my joy, when life was free And all the paths led on from hawthorn-time Across […]...
- Sonnet VII The strong man’s hand, the snow-cool head of age, The certain-footed sympathies of youth – These, and that lofty passion after truth, Hunger unsatisfied in priest or sage Or the great men of former years, he needs That not unworthily would dare to sing (Hard task!) black care’s inevitable ring Settling with years upon the […]...
- Soldier, Soldier “Soldier, soldier come from the wars, Why don’t you march with my true love?” “We’re fresh from off the ship an’ ‘e’s maybe give the slip, An’ you’d best go look for a new love.” New love! True love! Best go look for a new love, The dead they cannot rise, an’ you’d better dry […]...
- Slumber Songs I Sleep, little eyes That brim with childish tears amid thy play, Be comforted! No grief of night can weigh Against the joys that throng thy coming day. Sleep, little heart! There is no place in Slumberland for tears: Life soon enough will bring its chilling fears And sorrows that will dim the after years. […]...
- There Pass the Careless People There pass the careless people That call their souls their own: Here by the road I loiter, How idle and alone. Ah, past the plunge of plummet, In seas I cannot sound, My heart and soul and senses, World without end, are drowned. His folly has not fellow Beneath the blue of day That gives […]...
- The Quest A part, immutable, unseen, Being, before itself had been, Became. Like dew a triple queen Shone as the void uncovered: The silence of deep height was drawn A veil across the silver dawn On holy wings that hovered. The music of three thoughts became The beauty, that is one white flame, The justice that surpasses […]...
- The Quest High, hollowed in green Above the rocks of reason Lies the crater lake Whose ice the dreamer breaks To find a summer season. ‘He will plunge like a plummet down Far into hungry tides’ They cry, but as the sea Climbs to a lunar magnet So the dreamer pursues The lake where love resides....
- Twilight So Mary died last night! To-day The news has travelled here. And Robert died at Michaelmas, And Walter died last year. I went at sunset up the lane, I lingered by the stile; I saw the dusky fields that stretched Before me many a mile. I leaned against the stile, and thought Of her whose […]...
- Quest for Thee pain used to hurt The words cut me life a knife Shame filled my head at night I used to think there was no place to go I searched for a place To hide and bury my thoughts Evil lurked around every corner Waiting for me to uncover Evil came to me in disguise Hoping […]...
- From the Bush The Channel fog has lifted – And see where we have come! Round all the world we’ve drifted, A hundred years from “home”. The fields our parents longed for – Ah! we shall ne’er know how – The wealth that they were wronged for We’ll see as strangers now! The Dover cliffs have passed on […]...
- The Trapper's Christmas Eve It’s mighty lonesome-like and drear. Above the Wild the moon rides high, And shows up sharp and needle-clear The emptiness of earth and sky; No happy homes with love a-glow; No Santa Claus to make believe: Just snow and snow, and then more snow; It’s Christmas Eve, it’s Christmas Eve. And here am I where […]...
- The Living Dead Since I have come to years sedate I see with more and more acumen The bitter irony of Fate, The vanity of all things human. Why, just to-day some fellow said, As I surveyed Fame’s outer portal: “By gad! I thought that you were dead.” Poor me, who dreamed to be immortal! But that’s the […]...
- A Return WE turned back mad from the mystic mountains, All foamed with red and with elfin gold: Up from the heart of the twilight’s fountains The fires enchanted were starward rolled. We turned back mad: we thought of the morrow, The iron clang of the far-away town: We could not weep in our bitter sorrow, But […]...
- Dedication To Joseph Mazzini Take, since you bade it should bear, These, of the seed of your sowing, Blossom or berry or weed. Sweet though they be not, or fair, That the dew of your word kept growing, Sweet at least was the seed. Men bring you love-offerings of tears, And sorrow the kiss that assuages, And slaves the […]...
- One Art The art of losing isn’t hard to master; So many things seem filled with the intent To be lost that their loss is no disaster. Lose something every day. Accept the fluster Of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn’t hard to master. Then practice losing farther, losing faster: Places, […]...
- Martha SEXTON! Martha’s dead and gone; Toll the bell! toll the bell! Her weary hands their labor cease; Good night, poor Martha, sleep in peace! Toll the bell! Sexton! Martha ‘s dead and gone; Toll the bell! toll the bell! For many a year has Martha said, “I’m old and poor, would I were dead!” Toll […]...
- Genius A hundred generations have gone into its making, With all their love and tenderness, with all their dreams and tears; Their vanished joy and pleasure, their pain and their heart-breaking, Have colored this rare blossom of the long-unfruitful years. Their victory and their laughter for this have strong men given, For this have sweet, dead […]...
- THE FROGS A POOL was once congeal’d with frost; The frogs, in its deep waters lost, No longer dared to croak or spring; But promised, being half asleep, If suffer’d to the air to creep, As very nightingales to sing. A thaw dissolved the ice so strong, They proudly steer’d themselves along, When landed, squatted on the […]...
- The Mountain And The Lake I know a mountain thrilling to the stars, Peerless and pure, and pinnacled with snow; Glimpsing the golden dawn o’er coral bars, Flaunting the vanisht sunset’s garnet glow; Proudly patrician, passionless, serene; Soaring in silvered steeps where cloud-surfs break; Virgin and vestal Oh, a very Queen! And at her feet there dreams a quiet lake. […]...
- The Popular Heart is a Cannon first The Popular Heart is a Cannon first Subsequent a Drum Bells for an Auxiliary And an Afterward of Rum Not a Tomorrow to know its name Nor a Past to stare Ditches for Realms and a Trip to Jail For a Souvenir...
- On The Disadvantages Of Central Heating cold nights on the farm, a sock-shod Stove-warmed flatiron slid under The covers, mornings a damascene- Sealed bizarrerie of fernwork decades ago now Waking in northwest London, tea Brought up steaming, a Peak Frean Biscuit alongside to be nibbled As blue gas leaps up singing decades ago now Damp sheets in Dorset, fog-hung Habitat of […]...
- 28. Poor Mailie's Elegy LAMENT in rhyme, lament in prose, Wi’ saut tears trickling down your nose; Our bardie’s fate is at a close, Past a’ remead! The last, sad cape-stane o’ his woes; Poor Mailie’s dead! It’s no the loss o’ warl’s gear, That could sae bitter draw the tear, Or mak our bardie, dowie, wear The mourning […]...
- Troth with the Dead The moon is broken in twain, and half a moon Before me lies on the still, pale floor of the sky; The other half of the broken coin of troth Is buried away in the dark, where the still dead lie. They buried her half in the grave when they laid her away; I had […]...
- The Hollows round His eager Eyes The Hollows round His eager Eyes Were Pages where to read Pathetic Histories although Himself had not complained. Biography to All who passed Of Unobtrusive Pain Except for the italic Face Endured, unhelped unknown....
- Anticipation How beautiful the earth is still, To thee – how full of happiness! How little fraught with real ill, Or unreal phantoms of distress! How spring can bring thee glory, yet, And summer win thee to forget December’s sullen time! Why dost thou hold the treasure fast, Of youth’s delight, when youth is past, And […]...
- The Little Match Girl It was biting cold, and the falling snow, Which filled a poor little match girl’s heart with woe, Who was bareheaded and barefooted, as she went along the street, Crying, “Who’ll buy my matches? for I want pennies to buy some meat!” When she left home she had slippers on; But, alas! poor child, now […]...
- 468. Song-On the Seas and far away HOW can my poor heart be glad, When absent from my sailor lad; How can I the thought forego- He’s on the seas to meet the foe? Let me wander, let me rove, Still my heart is with my love; Nightly dreams, and thoughts by day, Are with him that’s far away. Chorus.-On the seas […]...
- Past Carin' Now up and down the siding brown The great black crows are flyin’, And down below the spur, I know, Another ‘milker’s’ dyin’; The crops have withered from the ground, The tank’s clay bed is glarin’, But from my heart no tear nor sound, For I have gone past carin’ Past worryin’ or carin’, Past […]...
- Bring, In This Timeless Grave To Throw XLVI Bring, in this timeless grave to throw No cypress, sombre on the snow; Snap not from the bitter yew His leaves that live December through; Break no rosemary, bright with rime And sparkling to the cruel crime; Nor plod the winter land to look For willows in the icy brook To cast them leafless […]...
- XIII. O Time! Who Know'st a Lenient Hand to Lay O TIME! who know’st a lenient hand to lay Softest on sorrow’s wound, and slowly thence, (Lulling to sad repose the weary sense) Stealest the long-forgotten pang away; On Thee I rest my only hope at last, And think, when thou hast dried the bitter tear That flows in vain o’er all my soul held […]...
- In the desert In the desert I saw a creature, naked, bestial, Who, squatting upon the ground, Held his heart in his hands, And ate of it. I said: “Is it good, friend?” “It is bitter – bitter,” he answered; “But I like it Because it is bitter, And because it is my heart.”...
- Scotland's Winter Now the ice lays its smooth claws on the sill, The sun looks from the hill Helmed in his winter casket, And sweeps his arctic sword across the sky. The water at the mill Sounds more hoarse and dull. The miller’s daughter walking by With frozen fingers soldered to her basket Seems to be knocking […]...