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90 North

Rating: 3.2

At home, in my flannel gown, like a bear to its floe,
I clambered to bed; up the globe's impossible sides
I sailed all night—till at last, with my black beard,
My furs and my dogs, I stood at the northern pole.

There in the childish night my companions lay frozen,
The stiff fur knocked at my starveling throat,
And I gave my great sigh: the flakes came huddling,
Were they really my end? In the darkness I turned to my rest.

—Here, the flag snaps in the glare and silence
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Keith Gaboury 10 June 2005

Wow, that's a really depressing poem but I'm still somehow pulled towards it. I really like the line 'Where people work and suffer for the end.'

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