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.
_ Robert Service, The Spell of the Yukon