The Impervious Iceberg
I saw him stand, a Polar man,
Cold anger in his frigid eye,
Facing it wild, unruly clan
Who poised their fiery shafts on high.
Strangely, his very coldness fed
The angry flame 'gainst such as he;
For in his wintry face they read
Antarctic immobility.
The niveous hauteur of that face
Bespoke the brumal inner man;
And, in its chill hyemal grace,
His pose was quite Siberian.
His haughty and hibernal gaze
Seemed like twin icicles to strike.
The whole man was, in many ways,
Peculiarly cucumber-like.
His algid and unruffled brow
Gleamed frostily, and, as he eyed
His raging foes, he seemed, I vow,
Gelidity personified.
His Greenland bosom bulged with pride:
A manly bosom 'twas withal
And, as he breathed, with glacial glide
I watched his waistcoat rise and fall.
I marked the Arctic arrogance
With which he faced his foemen bold.
Bleak was his mien; clay-cold his glance.
Some vowed his very feet were cold.
I saw his savage foemen poise
Their fiery javelins on high.
(They made a fearful lot of noise.)
'Slay! Slay the Iceberg!' was the cry.
And then, as by a single hand
Propelled, I saw the keen shafts fly,
And on that manly bosom land.
'This is his funeral,' thought I.
Nay, by my halidaine! What's this?
Upon his breast the hot shafts beat,
But with a fierce and baffled hiss
dropp all innocuous at his feet.
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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Added by Poetry Lover
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