Returning to the interesting poetry, we come to “The Cremation of Sam McGee” by Robert Service. This is another long one, but I can most definitely excerpt it. What follows has stuck in my head with little need for refreshment since it was recited to me (by my father, I believe) as a young child.
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.
As usual, you can click on the citation line to read the full thing.