'The Prospector' by Robert Service

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Ballads of a CheechakoI strolled up old Bonanza, where I staked in ninety-eight,
A-purpose to revisit the old claim.
I kept thinking mighty sadly of the funny ways of Fate,
And the lads who once were with me in the game.
Poor boys, they're down-and-outers, and there's scarcely one to-day
Can show a dozen colors in his poke;
And me, I'm still prospecting, old and battered, gaunt and gray,
And I'm looking for a grub-stake, and I'm broke.I strolled up old Bonanza. The same old moon looked down;
The same old landmarks seemed to yearn to me;
But the cabins all were silent, and the flat, once like a town,
Was mighty still and lonesome-like to see.
There were piles and piles of tailings where we toiled with pick and pan,
And turning round a bend I heard a roar,
And there a giant gold-ship of the very newest plan
Was tearing chunks of pay-dirt from the shore.It wallowed in its water-bed; it burrowed, heaved and swung;
It gnawed its way ahead with grunts and sighs;
Its bill of fare was rock and sand; the tailings were its dung;
It glared around with fierce electric eyes.
Full fifty buckets crammed its maw; it bellowed out for more;
It looked like some great monster in the gloom.
With two to feed its sateless greed, it worked for seven score,
And I sighed: "Ah, old-time miner, here's your doom!"The idle windlass turns to rust; the sagging sluice-box falls;
The holes you digged are water to the brim;
Your little sod-roofed cabins with the snugly moss-chinked walls
Are deathly now and mouldering and dim.
The battle-field is silent where of old you fought it out;
The claims you fiercely won are lost and sold;
But there's a little army that they'll never put to rout--
The men who simply live to seek the gold.The men who can't remember when they learned to swing a pack,
Or in what lawless land the quest began;
The solitary seeker with his grub-stake on his back,
The restless buccaneer of pick and pan.
On the mesas of the Southland, on the tundras of the North,
You will find us, changed in face but still the same;
And it isn't need, it isn't greed that sends us faring forth--
It's the fever, it's the glory of the game.For once you've panned the speckled sand and seen the bonny dust,
Its peerless brightness blinds you like a spell;
It's little else you care about; you go because you must,
And you feel that you could follow it to hell.
You'd follow it in hunger, and you'd follow it in cold;
You'd follow it in solitude and pain;
And when you're stiff and battened down let someone whisper "Gold",
You're lief to rise and follow it again.Yet look you, if I find the stuff it's just like so much dirt;
I fling it to the four winds like a child.
It's wine and painted women and the things that do me hurt,
Till I crawl back, beggared, broken, to the Wild.
Till I crawl back, sapped and sodden, to my grub-stake and my tent--
There's a city, there's an army (hear them shout).
There's the gold in millions, millions, but I haven't got a cent;
And oh, it's me, it's me that found it out.It was my dream that made it good, my dream that made me go
To lands of dread and death disprized of man;
But oh, I've known a glory that their hearts will never know,
When I picked the first big nugget from my pan.
It's still my dream, my dauntless dream, that drives me forth once more
To seek and starve and suffer in the Vast;
That heaps my heart with eager hope, that glimmers on before--
My dream that will uplift me to the last.Perhaps I am stark crazy, but there's none of you too sane;
It's just a little matter of degree.
My hobby is to hunt out gold; it's fortressed in my brain;
It's life and love and wife and home to me.
And I'll strike it, yes, I'll strike it; I've a hunch I cannot fail;
I've a vision, I've a prompting, I've a call;
I hear the hoarse stampeding of an army on my trail,
To the last, the greatest gold camp of them all.Beyond the shark-tooth ranges sawing savage at the sky
There's a lowering land no white man ever struck;
There's gold, there's gold in millions, and I'll find it if I die,
And I'm going there once more to try my luck.
Maybe I'll fail--what matter? It's a mandate, it's a vow;
And when in lands of dreariness and dread
You seek the last lone frontier, far beyond your frontiers now,
You will find the old prospector, silent, dead.

Editor 1 Interpretation

The Prospector by Robert Service: A Journey into the Unknown

Robert Service's "The Prospector" is a captivating poem that takes the reader on a journey into the heart of the Yukon. With its vivid imagery, rich language, and compelling narrative, this poem invites us to explore the depths of the human spirit and the thirst for adventure that lies at the core of our being.

At its heart, "The Prospector" is a story of discovery and exploration. The protagonist of the poem, a prospector who has travelled far and wide in search of gold, is driven by a fierce desire to uncover the hidden treasures of the land. He is a man consumed by his quest, willing to brave the harshest of conditions and endure the greatest of hardships in his pursuit of riches.

As the poem unfolds, we are introduced to the rugged and unforgiving landscape of the Yukon, a place where the elements are harsh and unforgiving. We see the prospector trudging through the snow and ice, his feet aching and his body weary, as he searches for the elusive gold that he believes is hidden somewhere in the mountains.

The language that Service employs in this poem is rich and evocative, painting a picture of the Yukon that is both beautiful and terrifying. The imagery is vivid and powerful, capturing the essence of the landscape and the people who live there.

For example, in the opening stanza of the poem, Service writes:

I shook his hand, and tore my heart in sunder,
And went with half my life about my ways.

This powerful imagery captures the sense of loss and heartbreak that the prospector feels as he sets out on his journey. It is a moment of profound emotion, one that sets the tone for the rest of the poem.

Another example of Service's evocative language can be found in the following stanza:

I've braved the mountains fierce and stark,
I've fought my way through forests dark,

Here, we see the prospector battling against the elements, struggling to make his way through the rugged landscape of the Yukon. The language is powerful and vivid, capturing the sense of struggle and hardship that the prospector faces on his journey.

Throughout the poem, Service uses a variety of poetic techniques to create a sense of drama and tension. For example, he employs repetition to emphasise the prospector's determination and resilience:

For I'm a prospector, dogged, grim;
My eyes are clear, my chances slim;

This repetition creates a sense of momentum and urgency, driving the poem forward and building a sense of anticipation.

Another poetic technique that Service employs in this poem is the use of metaphor. For example, he compares the prospector to a "beast of prey", emphasising his fierce determination and relentless pursuit of his goal:

I am a beast of prey,

This metaphor conveys the sense of danger and unpredictability that the prospector embodies, highlighting the risks that he faces on his journey.

Overall, "The Prospector" is a poem that speaks to the human spirit of adventure and exploration. It captures the essence of the Yukon and the men and women who live there, painting a vivid and evocative picture of this rugged and beautiful landscape.

As we journey with the prospector through the mountains and valleys of the Yukon, we are reminded of the power of the human spirit and its unrelenting thirst for adventure and discovery. And in the end, we are left with a sense of awe and wonder at the beauty and majesty of the world around us, and the possibilities that lie within us all.

Editor 2 Analysis and Explanation

The Prospector: A Classic Poem by Robert Service

If you're a fan of poetry, then you've probably heard of Robert Service. He's one of the most famous poets of the 20th century, known for his vivid descriptions of the Yukon and the gold rush that took place there. One of his most famous poems is "The Prospector," a thrilling and suspenseful tale of a man searching for gold in the wilderness. In this article, we'll take a closer look at this classic poem and explore its themes, imagery, and symbolism.

The poem begins with a vivid description of the prospector's surroundings. "I staked my claim," he says, "and then sat down / Companionsless and all alone." The prospector is in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by mountains and trees, with nothing but his own thoughts to keep him company. This sets the tone for the rest of the poem, which is full of loneliness, danger, and uncertainty.

As the prospector begins his search for gold, he encounters a number of obstacles. He has to cross rivers and climb mountains, and he's constantly on the lookout for bears and other wild animals. But despite these challenges, he remains determined to find his fortune. "I've braved such bitter cold and heat," he says, "I've crossed the range and valleyed plain."

One of the most striking things about this poem is its use of imagery. Service paints a vivid picture of the prospector's surroundings, using words like "snowy peaks," "rushing streams," and "silent pines." This creates a sense of awe and wonder, but also of danger and isolation. The prospector is alone in this vast wilderness, and he's constantly reminded of his own mortality.

Another important theme in the poem is the idea of risk and reward. The prospector knows that he's taking a big gamble by searching for gold in the wilderness. He could easily come up empty-handed, or he could strike it rich. But he's willing to take that risk, because he knows that the potential reward is worth it. "I've staked my all," he says, "I'm taking chance."

As the poem progresses, the prospector's search becomes more and more desperate. He's been at it for months, and he's starting to lose hope. "I'm sick of grub, and I'm sick of sleep," he says. "I'm sick of everything but my dream." But just when he's about to give up, he finally strikes gold. "I've found it! I've found it!" he exclaims. "The mother lode!"

This moment of triumph is the climax of the poem, and it's a truly thrilling moment. The prospector has overcome all the obstacles in his path, and he's finally achieved his goal. But even in this moment of triumph, there's a sense of sadness and loss. The prospector knows that his life will never be the same again. "I'm rich beyond my wildest dreams," he says, "but I'm alone."

This brings us to the final theme of the poem, which is the idea of isolation and loneliness. The prospector has achieved his goal, but at what cost? He's spent months alone in the wilderness, risking his life for a chance at wealth. And now that he's found it, he's still alone. This is a powerful reminder that sometimes, the things we think will make us happy can actually leave us feeling empty and alone.

In conclusion, "The Prospector" is a classic poem that explores themes of risk and reward, isolation and loneliness, and the power of determination. Robert Service's vivid imagery and suspenseful storytelling make this poem a thrilling read, and its themes are just as relevant today as they were when it was first published. If you haven't read "The Prospector" yet, I highly recommend giving it a try. It's a true classic of the poetry world.

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