Here you will find thePoemDavidof poet John Le Gay Brereton
Eternal cold of silence, where each sound Dies in its birth, and Death's pale henchmen meet With soft Lethean traps unwary feet Or ride with hell's white steed and slavering hound; Which of us, searching selfward, has not found This desolate realm, and long black seams, that greet Our souls with recollections of defeat, And torrid fossils in the frozen ground? Not he, who comes among us as a king; Strange were the secret waste and granite walls To him whose reverent feet have travelled far Where duty beckons and adventure calls. He steers his course, by one red tropic star, Where ripples the green robe of the lilting spring.
