The Spell Of The Yukon | Robert William Service | Enchanting Poetry скачать в хорошем качестве

The Spell Of The Yukon | Robert William Service | Enchanting Poetry

'The Spell of The Yukon' establishes why British-Canadian poet Robert William Service is often called 'The Bard of the Yukon'. This breathtaking poem was first published in 1907 and is part of an anthology titled 'Songs of a Sourdough'. Over the course of nine stanzas, it weaves a riveting tale set in the days of the Klondike Gold Rush. Tens of thousands of prospectors from Canada and the U.S. A. made their way to the Yukon lured by the possibility of making a fortune. They found themselves in a world that was very different from what they had grown accustomed to. Brutal winters, harsh conditions had to be contended with, yet they remained in the Yukon, isolated from the world strangely enchanted by the freedom from the confines of a materialistic society they grew to hate. The landscape, the wilderness that they initially thought were adversaries suddenly turned beautiful and left them spellbound. They could never shrug off the charm and as is brilliantly narrated in this poem, it dawns on them that the Yukon has much more to offer than gold - their earlier motive of making a fortune now altered forever by what they've witnessed and have bonded with. This poem talks of successful prospectors who returned with a fortune but had now a very different purpose for setting out for the Yukon again. It is a higher purpose. In the Yukon they have found great peace amidst natural splendour. They have been emancipated from greed and the lust for wealth. The spirit of the Yukon is now in union with theirs. Their love for the place is supreme. Service paints a vivid image of the Yukon and its enthralling natural magnificence. He is direct in his depiction and ensures that the Yukon comes alive for every reader. 'The Spell of The Yukon' makes us rethink our choices and clearly establishes that wealth and luxuries pale into insignifance when pit against Nature in all her grandeur. A truly special poem and a tribute by Service to a place that he was deeply in love with. Full Poem: I wanted the gold, and I sought it; I scrabbled and mucked like a slave. Was it famine or scurvy—I fought it; I hurled my youth into a grave. I wanted the gold, and I got it— Came out with a fortune last fall,— Yet somehow life’s not what I thought it, And somehow the gold isn’t all. No! There’s the land. (Have you seen it?) It’s the cussedest land that I know, From the big, dizzy mountains that screen it To the deep, deathlike valleys below. Some say God was tired when He made it; Some say it’s a fine land to shun; Maybe; but there’s some as would trade it For no land on earth—and I’m one. You come to get rich (damned good reason); You feel like an exile at first; You hate it like hell for a season, And then you are worse than the worst. It grips you like some kinds of sinning; It twists you from foe to a friend; It seems it’s been since the beginning; It seems it will be to the end. I’ve stood in some mighty-mouthed hollow That’s plumb-full of hush to the brim; I’ve watched the big, husky sun wallow In crimson and gold, and grow dim, Till the moon set the pearly peaks gleaming, And the stars tumbled out, neck and crop; And I’ve thought that I surely was dreaming, With the peace o’ the world piled on top. The summer—no sweeter was ever; The sunshiny woods all athrill; The grayling aleap in the river, The bighorn asleep on the hill. The strong life that never knows harness; The wilds where the caribou call; The freshness, the freedom, the farness— O God! how I’m stuck on it all. The winter! the brightness that blinds you, The white land locked tight as a drum, The cold fear that follows and finds you, The silence that bludgeons you dumb. The snows that are older than history, The woods where the weird shadows slant; The stillness, the moonlight, the mystery, I’ve bade ’em good-by—but I can’t. There’s a land where the mountains are nameless, And the rivers all run God knows where; There are lives that are erring and aimless, And deaths that just hang by a hair; There are hardships that nobody reckons; There are valleys unpeopled and still; There’s a land—oh, it beckons and beckons, And I want to go back—and I will. They’re making my money diminish; I’m sick of the taste of champagne. Thank God! when I’m skinned to a finish I’ll pike to the Yukon again. I’ll fight—and you bet it’s no sham-fight; It’s hell!—but I’ve been there before; And it’s better than this by a damsite— So me for the Yukon once more. There’s gold, and it’s haunting and haunting; It’s luring me on as of old; Yet it isn’t the gold that I’m wanting So much as just finding the gold. It’s the great, big, broad land ’way up yonder, It’s the forests where silence has lease; It’s the beauty that thrills me with wonder, It’s the stillness that fills me with peace. Please Subscribe to our channel and share it with your friends and family. #service #goldrush #wanderlust