Now have I grown a sharpness and an edge <br />Unto my future nights, and I will cut <br />Sheer through the ebon gates that yet will shut <br />On every set of day; or as a sledge <br />Drawn over snowy plains; where not a hedge <br />Breaks this Aurora's dancing, nothing but <br />The one cold Esquimaux' unlikely hut <br />That swims in the broad moonlight! Lo, a wedge <br />Of the clean meteor hath been brightly driven <br />Right home into the fastness of the north! <br />Anon it quickeneth up into the heaven! <br />And I with it have clomb and spreaded forth <br />Upon the crisp and cooling atmosphere! <br />My soul is all abroad: I cannot find it here!<br /><br />George MacDonald<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-aurora-borealis/
