With thy rugged, ice-girt shore, Draped in everlasting snow, Thou’rt enthroned a queen. Crown of moss and lichen grey, Frosted o’er with ocean spray, All thy long, long wintry day, Dark and stern thy mien.
From the cloudland fresh and fair, Falls the snow through crispy air, Mantling vale and hill. Then old “Borealis” glows, With his fiery light that shows, Frozen nature in repose, River, stream and rill.
On thy north the Polar Sea Thunders forth in wild melee, ’Mid gorges dark and steep Full many a ship with noble crew, Lies low beneath thy waters blue, Nor left behind a single clue, But sleep a dreamless sleep.