'Death In The Arctic' by Robert Service
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I
I took the clock down from the shelf;
"At eight," said I, "I shoot myself."
It lacked a minute of the hour,
And as I waited all a-cower,
A skinful of black, boding pain,
Bits of my life came back again. . . .
"Mother, there's nothing more to eat --
Why don't you go out on the street?
Always you sit and cry and cry;
Here at my play I wonder why.
Mother, when you dress up at night,
Red are your cheeks, your eyes are bright;
Twining a ribband in your hair,
Kissing good-bye you go down-stair.
Then I'm as lonely as can be.
Oh, how I wish you were with me!
Yet when you go out on the street,
Mother, there's always lots to eat. . . ."
II
For days the igloo has been dark;
But now the rag wick sends a spark
That glitters in the icy air,
And wakes frost sapphires everywhere;
Bright, bitter flames, that adder-like
Dart here and there, yet fear to strike
The gruesome gloom wherein they lie,
My comrades, oh, so keen to die!
And I, the last -- well, here I wait
The clock to strike the hour of eight. . . .
"Boy, it is bitter to be hurled
Nameless and naked on the world;
Frozen by night and starved by day,
Curses and kicks and clouts your pay.
But you must fight! Boy, look on me!
Anarch of all earth-misery;
Beggar and tramp and shameless sot;
Emblem of ill, in rags that rot.
Would you be foul and base as I?
Oh, it is better far to die!
Swear to me now you'll fight and fight,
Boy, or I'll kill you here to-night. . . ."
III
Curse this silence soft and black!
Sting, little light, the shadows back!
Dance, little flame, with freakish glee!
Twinkle with brilliant mockery!
Glitter on ice-robed roof and floor!
Jewel the bear-skin of the door!
Gleam in my beard, illume my breath,
Blanch the clock face that times my death!
But do not pierce that murk so deep,
Where in their sleeping-bags they sleep!
But do not linger where they lie,
They who had all the luck to die! . . .
"There is nothing more to say;
Let us part and go our way.
Since it seems we can't agree,
I will go across the sea.
Proud of heart and strong am I;
Not for woman will I sigh;
Hold my head up gay and glad:
You can find another lad. . . ."
IV
Above the igloo piteous flies
Our frayed flag to the frozen skies.
Oh, would you know how earth can be
A hell -- go north of Eighty-three!
Go, scan the snows day after day,
And hope for help, and pray and pray;
Have seal-hide and sea-lice to eat;
Melt water with your body's heat;
Sleep all the fell, black winter through
Beside the dear, dead men you knew.
(The walrus blubber flares and gleams --
O God! how long a minute seems!) . . .
"Mary, many a day has passed,
Since that morn of hot-head youth.
Come I back at last, at last,
Crushed with knowing of the truth;
How through bitter, barren years
You loved me, and me alone;
Waited, wearied, wept your tears --
Oh, could I atone, atone,
I would pay a million-fold!
Pay you for the love you gave.
Mary, look down as of old --
I am kneeling by your grave." . . .
V
Olaf, the Blonde, was first to go;
Bitten his eyes were by the snow;
Sightless and sealed his eyes of blue,
So that he died before I knew.
Here in those poor weak arms he died:
"Wolves will not get you, lad," I lied;
"For I will watch till Spring come round;
Slumber you shall beneath the ground."
Oh, how I lied! I scarce can wait:
Strike, little clock, the hour of eight! . . .
"Comrade, can you blame me quite?
The horror of the long, long night
Is on me, and I've borne with pain
So long, and hoped for help in vain.
So frail am I, and blind and dazed;
With scurvy sick, with silence crazed.
Beneath the Arctic's heel of hate,
Avid for Death I wait, I wait.
Oh if I falter, fail to fight,
Can you, dear comrade, blame me quite?" . . .
VI
Big Eric gave up months ago.
But seldom do men suffer so.
His feet sloughed off, his fingers died,
His hands shrunk up and mummified.
I had to feed him like a child;
Yet he was valiant, joked and smiled,
Talked of his wife and little one
(Thanks be to God that I have none),
Passed in the night without a moan,
Passed, and I'm here, alone, alone. . . .
"I've got to kill you, Dick.
Your life for mine, you know.
Better to do it quick,
A swift and sudden blow.
See! here's my hand to lick;
A hug before you go --
God! but it makes me sick:
Old dog, I love you so.
Forgive, forgive me, Dick --
A swift and sudden blow. . . ."
VII
Often I start up in the dark,
Thinking the sound of bells to hear.
Often I wake from sleep: "Oh, hark!
Help . . . it is coming . . . near and near."
Blindly I reel toward the door;
There the snow billows bleak and bare;
Blindly I seek my den once more,
Silence and darkness and despair.
Oh, it is all a dreadful dream!
Scurvy and cold and death and dearth;
I will awake to warmth and gleam,
Silvery seas and greening earth.
Life is a dream, its wakening,
Death, gentle shadow of God's wing. . . .
"Tick, little clock, my life away!
Even a second seems a day.
Even a minute seems a year,
Peopled with ghosts, that press and peer
Into my face so charnel white,
Lit by the devilish, dancing light.
Tick, little clock! mete out my fate:
Tortured and tense I wait, I wait. . . ."
VIII
Oh, I have sworn! the hour is nigh:
When it strikes eight, I die, I die.
Raise up the gun -- it stings my brow --
When it strikes eight . . . all ready . . . now --
* * * * *
Down from my hand the weapon dropped;
Wildly I stared. . . .
THE CLOCK HAD STOPPED.
IX
Phantoms and fears and ghosts have gone.
Peace seems to nestle in my brain.
Lo! the clock stopped, I'm living on;
Heart-sick I was, and less than sane.
Yet do I scorn the thing I planned,
Hearing a voice: "O coward, fight!"
Then the clock stopped . . . whose was the hand?
Maybe 'twas God's -- ah well, all's right.
Heap on me darkness, fold on fold!
Pain! wrench and rack me! What care I?
Leap on me, hunger, thirst and cold!
I will await my time to die;
Looking to Heaven that shines above;
Looking to God, and love . . . and love.
X
Hark! what is that? Bells, dogs again!
Is it a dream? I sob and cry.
See! the door opens, fur-clad men
Rush to my rescue; frail am I;
Feeble and dying, dazed and glad.
There is the pistol where it dropped.
"Boys, it was hard -- but I'm not mad. . . .
Look at the clock -- it stopped, it stopped.
Carry me out. The heavens smile.
See! there's an arch of gold above.
Now, let me rest a little while --
Looking to God and Love . . .and Love . . ."
Editor 1 Interpretation
Death In The Arctic: A Deep Dive into Robert Service's Classic Poem
Oh boy, where do I even start with this one? Death In The Arctic by Robert Service is a poem that truly takes you on an emotional rollercoaster. From the very first line, you know that you're in for a wild ride. "We headed straight for the Pole", the narrator tells us, and you can't help but feel a sense of excitement and danger.
But as the poem unfolds, that excitement quickly turns to fear and despair as the crew finds themselves trapped in the ice. Service's vivid descriptions of the freezing Arctic landscape and the crew's struggles to survive are nothing short of haunting. And when the final line hits, it hits HARD. "And God! how we were clay", the narrator laments, reminding us of our own mortality and the fragility of human life.
So, let's dive deeper into this masterpiece and see what we can uncover.
Context and Background
First, let's talk a bit about Robert Service and the historical context behind the poem. Service was a British-Canadian poet who lived from 1874 to 1958. He is perhaps best known for his poems about the Yukon gold rush, but he also wrote extensively about his travels and experiences in the Arctic.
Death In The Arctic was first published in Service's collection Rhymes of a Red Cross Man in 1916, during World War I. The collection was dedicated to the Red Cross nurses and doctors who served in the war, and many of the poems deal with themes of death and sacrifice.
It's worth noting that Service was not actually present at the events described in the poem. Rather, he based it on the experiences of the crew of the Karluk, a ship that became trapped in the ice and drifted for months in 1913-1914. The crew eventually split into two groups, with one group making it safely to shore and the other perishing in the ice.
Literary Analysis
Death In The Arctic is a masterful example of narrative poetry. Service tells a gripping story that keeps the reader engaged from beginning to end. He also makes excellent use of imagery and metaphor to convey the harshness and brutality of the Arctic landscape.
One of the most striking images in the poem is that of the "ice-locked plain". This phrase conveys both the beauty and danger of the Arctic environment. The ice is beautiful in its stark whiteness and the way it reflects the sunlight, but it is also deadly in its ability to trap and kill those who venture too far.
Service also uses metaphor to describe the crew's struggle to survive. For example, he writes that they were "clay", a reference to the biblical story of Adam, who was made from clay by God. This metaphor emphasizes the crew's vulnerability and mortality, and reminds us that even the strongest and most capable among us are ultimately at the mercy of nature.
Another interesting aspect of the poem is the way Service portrays the crew's mental state as they become more and more desperate. He writes that they "sank to the beast" and "lost the human mien". This language suggests that the crew is regressing to a more primitive state as they struggle to survive. It also raises questions about what it means to be human and how our environment can shape our behavior.
Themes
So, what are the themes that Service is exploring in Death In The Arctic? One obvious theme is the brutality of nature and the harshness of the Arctic environment. Service portrays the Arctic as a place that is beautiful but also deadly, and emphasizes the crew's struggle to survive in such a hostile landscape.
Another theme is the fragility of human life. The crew of the Karluk were experienced explorers and sailors, yet they were ultimately unable to survive the Arctic's icy grip. This theme is emphasized by the metaphor of the crew as clay, which emphasizes our vulnerability and mortality.
Finally, there is a theme of sacrifice and heroism. The crew of the Karluk knew the risks of their expedition, yet they still ventured into the Arctic in search of new discoveries. Service portrays them as brave and determined in the face of overwhelming odds, and their eventual demise is depicted as a tragic sacrifice.
Interpretation
So, what does Death In The Arctic mean? As with any work of art, there are multiple possible interpretations. One possible interpretation is that the poem is a meditation on the human relationship with nature. Service portrays the Arctic as a place of danger and beauty, and emphasizes the crew's struggle to survive in such a hostile environment. This interpretation suggests that humans are ultimately at the mercy of nature, and that our attempts to conquer or control it are ultimately futile.
Another interpretation is that the poem is a commentary on the human condition. The crew of the Karluk were skilled and experienced explorers, yet they were ultimately unable to survive the Arctic's icy grip. This suggests that even the most capable and intelligent among us are ultimately vulnerable and mortal.
Finally, the poem can be seen as a tribute to the bravery and sacrifice of the crew of the Karluk. Service portrays them as heroic figures who knew the risks of their expedition yet still ventured forth in search of new discoveries. This interpretation suggests that there is value in taking risks and pursuing our dreams, even if the ultimate outcome is uncertain.
Conclusion
In conclusion, Death In The Arctic is a haunting and powerful poem that explores themes of nature, mortality, and sacrifice. Robert Service's vivid imagery and use of metaphor bring the Arctic landscape and the crew's struggles to life in a way that is both beautiful and terrifying. Whether read as a meditation on the human relationship with nature, a commentary on the human condition, or a tribute to the bravery of explorers, the poem remains relevant and thought-provoking more than a century after it was first published.
Editor 2 Analysis and Explanation
Death In The Arctic: A Poem of Adventure and Tragedy
Robert Service, the famous poet and writer, is known for his vivid and powerful descriptions of the rugged and wild landscapes of the North. His poem "Death in the Arctic" is a haunting and powerful account of a tragic expedition to the Arctic, where a group of explorers meet their untimely end in the unforgiving and merciless wilderness.
The poem begins with a description of the Arctic landscape, with its "ice-ribbed seas" and "frozen skies". The imagery is stark and vivid, painting a picture of a desolate and inhospitable environment that is both beautiful and deadly. The narrator, who is presumably one of the members of the expedition, describes the excitement and anticipation of the group as they set out on their journey, eager to explore the unknown and conquer the elements.
As the expedition progresses, however, the mood begins to shift. The group encounters a fierce blizzard, which threatens to engulf them in its icy grip. The wind howls and the snow swirls around them, and the men struggle to keep their footing in the face of the storm. The narrator describes the fear and desperation that grips them as they realize the full extent of their peril:
"We fought the wind with all our might, And battled through the blinding white; But all in vain, for soon we knew That Death was waiting for his due."
Despite their best efforts, the men are unable to overcome the forces of nature that are arrayed against them. One by one, they succumb to the cold and the wind, falling to the ground and disappearing into the snow. The narrator describes the horror of watching his companions die, one by one, and the sense of helplessness that overwhelms him:
"I saw them fall, I heard them cry, And knew that they were doomed to die; And yet I could not lift a hand, To save them from that frozen land."
The poem reaches its climax with the death of the last member of the expedition, who is described as a "hero" who fought to the bitter end. The narrator laments the loss of his companions, and the tragedy of their deaths in such a remote and inhospitable place:
"And so we died, in that bleak waste, Our bones to bleach in Arctic haste; And none will know our resting place, Or mark our passing with a trace."
The poem ends with a somber reflection on the transience of human life, and the inevitability of death. The narrator muses on the futility of their expedition, and the senselessness of their deaths in pursuit of a goal that was ultimately meaningless:
"We sought for wealth, we sought for fame, And found instead a frozen shame; For Death in Arctic wastes doth reign, And all our striving is in vain."
Analysis
"Death in the Arctic" is a powerful and evocative poem that captures the essence of the Arctic wilderness and the dangers that lurk within it. The poem is notable for its vivid imagery and its ability to convey a sense of the harsh and unforgiving environment that the explorers faced. The poem is also notable for its use of language, which is simple and direct, yet powerful and evocative.
The poem is structured as a narrative, with the narrator recounting the events of the expedition in a straightforward and matter-of-fact manner. The poem is divided into stanzas, each of which describes a different aspect of the expedition. The first stanza sets the scene, describing the Arctic landscape and the sense of adventure and excitement that the explorers feel as they set out on their journey. The subsequent stanzas describe the challenges that the group faces, including the blizzard and the deaths of the members of the expedition.
The poem is notable for its use of repetition, which serves to reinforce the sense of danger and foreboding that permeates the narrative. The phrase "Death in Arctic wastes doth reign" is repeated several times throughout the poem, serving as a reminder of the inevitability of death in such a hostile environment. The repetition of the phrase "frozen shame" also serves to underscore the sense of futility and despair that the narrator feels in the face of their tragic fate.
The poem is also notable for its use of symbolism, particularly in its depiction of the Arctic landscape. The "ice-ribbed seas" and "frozen skies" serve as powerful symbols of the harsh and unforgiving environment that the explorers face. The blizzard is also a powerful symbol, representing the forces of nature that are arrayed against the group and ultimately lead to their demise.
The poem can be read as a commentary on the human desire for exploration and conquest, and the dangers that can arise when this desire is taken too far. The explorers in the poem are driven by a desire for wealth and fame, but their quest ultimately leads to their downfall. The poem can also be read as a meditation on the transience of human life, and the inevitability of death. The explorers in the poem are ultimately powerless in the face of the forces of nature, and their deaths serve as a reminder of the fragility of human existence.
Conclusion
"Death in the Arctic" is a powerful and haunting poem that captures the essence of the Arctic wilderness and the dangers that lurk within it. The poem is notable for its vivid imagery, its use of repetition and symbolism, and its commentary on the human desire for exploration and conquest. The poem serves as a reminder of the fragility of human existence, and the inevitability of death in the face of the forces of nature.
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