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Poems About Alaska

Table of Contents

  1. Alaska by Thomas Campbell
  2. To The Golden-Crowned Sparrow in Alaska by John Burroughs
  3. An Alaskan Lake by Frank B. Camp
  4. The Trails of Alaska by Frank B. Camp
  5. The Hunger Cry of the Wolf by Frank B. Camp
  6. Up in Alaska by Esther Birdsall Darling
  7. The Alaska Forget-Me-Not by Esther Birdsall Darling

  1. Alaska

    by Thomas Campbell

    (From The Pleasures of Hope)

    Angel of life! thy glittering wings explore
    Earth’s loneliest bounds and ocean’s wildest shore.
    Lo! to the wintry winds the pilot yields
    His bark careering o’er unfathomed fields;
    Now on Atlantic waves he rides afar,
    Where Andes, giant of the western star,
    With meteor standard to the winds unfurled,
    Looks from his throne of clouds o’er half the world.

    Now far he sweeps, where scarce a summer smiles,
    On Behring’s rocks, or Greenland’s naked isles:
    Cold on his midnight watch the breezes blow,
    From wastes that slumber in eternal snow;
    And waft, across the waves’ tumultuous roar,
    The wolf’s long howl from Oonalaska’s shore.

  2. To The Golden-Crowned Sparrow in Alaska

    by John Burroughs

    Oh, minstrel of these borean hills,
    Where twilight hours are long,
    I would my boyhood's fragrant days
    Had known thy plaintive song,

    Had known thy vest of ashen gray,
    Thy coat of drab and brown,
    The bands of jet upon thy head,
    That clasp thy golden crown.

    We heard thee in the cold White Pass,
    Where cloud and mountain meet,
    Again where Muir's great glacier shone
    Far spread beneath our feet.

    I bask me now on emerald heights
    To catch thy faintest strain;
    But cannot tell if in thy lay
    Be more of joy or pain.

    Far off behold the snow white peaks
    Athwart the sea's blue shade;
    Anear there rise green Kadiak hills,
    Wherein thy nest is made.

    I hear the wild bee's mellow chord,
    In airs that swim above;
    The lesser hermit tunes his flute,
    To solitude and love.

    Farewell, dear bird, I turn my face
    To other skies than thine;
    A thousand leagues of land and sea
    Between thy home and mine.

  3. An Alaskan Lake

    by Frank B. Camp

    Your waters gleaming,
    The sunlight streaming,
    Then darkness earthward crawls;
    The sun's last glimmer
    Grows dimmer, dimmer,
    Night's curtain slowly falls.

    Your waves a-moaning,
    Restless and groaning,
    Pounding shore, in varied size;
    The fog ascending,
    With clouds is blending,
    The stars are blinking their eyes.

    Your waters swelling,
    With murmur telling
    A story ages old.
    Now dashing madly,
    Then crying sadly,
    Seeming at times to scold.

    Then capped with froth,
    Your waves grow wroth,
    And angry lash the shore;
    With clouds of spray
    Through night and day,
    Emitting sullen roar.

    Your waters peaceful,
    Calm and ceaseful
    With just a gentle roll;
    Bring me contentment,
    Banish resentment
    And soothe my heart and soul.

    I hear the wild bee's mellow chord,
    In airs that swim above;
    The lesser hermit tunes his flute,
    To solitude and love.

    Farewell, dear bird, I turn my face
    To other skies than thine;
    A thousand leagues of land and sea
    Between thy home and mine.

  4. The Trails of Alaska

    by Frank B. Camp

    Alaska trails are myriad trails,
    The "Sour-dough" treads them all—
    The Long Trails and the Short Trails,
    Wherever he heeds the Call.

    Some of the Trails are Smooth Trails,
    Broad and level and straight,
    Perfect as Man can make them,
    Aided by God and Fate.

    Some of the Trails are Sad Trails,
    Paved with Sorrow and Fear,
    Filled with the ghosts of blasted hopes,
    And sprinkled with many a tear.

    Some of the Trails are Gay Trails,
    Filled with laughter and song,
    Paved with the smiles of the happy,
    And the joy of the care free throng.

    Some of the Trails are Long Trails,
    Crossing the desert of Life,
    Filled with the bleached and scattered bones,
    Of those who have died in the strife.

    Some of the Trails are Short Trails,
    Shaded by wonderful trees,
    Where man may rest himself betimes
    And spend glad hours at ease.

    Some of the Trails are Evil Trails,
    Ending where they begin,
    Paved with blocks of Hypocrisy,
    Shaded by trees of Sin.

    Some of the Trails are Good Trails,
    Built by a Master Hand,
    Winding away for miles and miles
    Till they reach the Promised Land.

    All of the Trails are Branch Trails,
    Leading away from the Main,
    We may tread them all before we die,
    But we all must come back again—

    Back to the Big and Royal Trail,
    Tore ever we come to die,
    For this is the Trail of Life and Death,
    Of the How and the When and the Why.

  5. The Hunger Cry of the Wolf

    by Frank B. Camp

    High on the hill
    The wind is still,
    No whispering, gentle sigh,
    When to the ear,
    Both loud and clear
    Comes the wolf's bold hunger cry.

    A weird, weird sound
    That chills the blood
    And wakes a sleeping fear,
    Within the grouse,
    The hare and mouse,
    The moose and white-tail deer.

    The hunger cry,
    On hill so high,
    Goes echoing around,
    Until the night
    So still and bright,
    Excludes all other sound.

    We hear the cry
    And wonder why
    Fear should so swiftly grow,
    As to our kind
    When brawn ruled mind
    A thousand years ago.

      *  *  *  *  *

    The Hunger Cry of the big grey wolf,
    Who hunts when the nights are still,
    Brings fear to the heart of man and beast,
    For it means, "I Kill, I Kill!"

  6. Up in Alaska

    by Esther Birdsall Darling

    The snow is nowhere quite so white
    As in Alaska;
    And nowhere shine the stars so bright
    As in Alaska.
    The days are nowhere quite so gray,
    The nights are nowhere quite so gay,
    For Heaven's forgot, and Hell's to pay,
    Up in Alaska.

    And nowhere is the gold so pure
    As in Alaska.
    The people—well, we're not so sure—
    Up in Alaska;
    But when I cross the Great Divide,
    I only hope that by my side
    Will stand some comrades true and tried,
    As these up in Alaska.

    The Malamutes wail loud and long
    Up in Alaska;
    It is the Arctic slumber song
    Up in Alaska.
    But joy comes fast and shadows flee,
    The winters fly in mirth and glee,
    For nowhere flows the Hootch so free
    As in Alaska.

    And when we've left this barren shore,
    Up in Alaska,
    Perchance to come to Nome no more,
    Up in Alaska,
    We'll often say, "Here's one on me,"
    To those old friends on Bering Sea,
    Good luck to all-where they may be,
    Up in Alaska.

  7. The Alaska Forget-Me-Not

    by Esther Birdsall Darling

    In this far away Alaska,
    With its deep and trackless snows,
    Winter comes so very quickly,
    And so very slowly goes,
    That the fair and fleeting summer
    Is a dream of brief delight,
    With its air so soft and balmy
    And its days so long and bright.

    And it seems as if to pay us
    For the gray months bleak and cold,
    That the smallest, simplest blossoms
    Here some rare new charms unfold;
    And of all these welcome flowers
    Answering to the sun's warm glow,
    There are none that touch the heart strings
    Like "Forget-Me-Nots," I know.

    So, in looking for an emblem
    For our Empire of the North,
    We will choose this azure flower
    That the sunny hours bring forth.
    For we want men to remember
    That Alaska's here to stay,
    Though she slept unknown for ages,
    And awakened in a day.

    And we want them to remember,
    Though her heart is one of gold,
    There are many other treasures
    That she offers to unfold.
    She has men of brawn and muscle;
    She has men of brain and fire,
    Who will help to win her honors
    And achieve her soul's desire.

    She has women who have followed
    Where the brave frontiersmen roam,
    Who are sure that where the heart is,
    There can always be a home.
    And Alaska has her children,
    Who no fairer land have known,
    Yet the love of our whole country
    In each little mind is sown.

    So we want to tell the nation
    That the mines and golden sands
    Yield no richer, surer fortune
    Than our loyal hearts and hands.
    And although they say we're living
    In the "Land that God forgot"—
    We'll recall Alaska to them
    With our blue Forget-Me-Not.

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