My Madonna

Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the 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--O God! how I loathed

the thing!

And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy 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 I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.

Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay;

It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the

"Alice May."

And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen

chum:

Then, "Here," said I, with a sudden cry, "is my cre-ma-tor-eum."

Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I 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--such a blaze you

seldom see;

And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.

Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him 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

don't know why;

And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.

I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled 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: "I'll just take a peep

inside.

I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked," ... then the door I

opened wide.

And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the

furnace roar;

And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: "Please close

that door.

It's fine in here, but I greatly fear you'll let in the cold and

storm--

Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've

been warm."

_There are strange things done in the midnight sun

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._

MY MADONNA

I haled me a woman from the street,

Shameless, but, oh, so fair!

I bade her sit in the model's seat,

And I painted her sitting there.

I hid all trace of her heart unclean;

I painted a babe at her breast;

I painted her as she might have been

If the Worst had been the Best.

She laughed at my picture, and went away.

Then came, with a knowing nod,

A connoisseur, and I heard him say:

"'Tis Mary, the Mother of God."

So I painted a halo round her hair,

And I sold her, and took my fee,

And she hangs in the church of Saint Hilaire,

Where you and all may see.

UNFORGOTTEN

I know a garden where the lilies gleam,

And one who lingers in the sunshine there;

She is than white-stoled lily far more fair,

And oh, her eyes are heaven-lit with dream.

I know a garret, cold and dark and drear,

And one who toils and toils with tireless pen,

Until his brave, sad eyes grow weary--then

He seeks the stars, pale, silent as a seer.

And ah, it's strange, for desolate and dim

Between these two there rolls an ocean wide;

Yet he is in the garden by her side,

And she is in the garret there with him.

THE RECKONING