The cremation of sam mcgee
by robert service
there are strange things done i...
The cremation of sam mcgee
by robert service
there are strange things done in the midnight sun
by the men who moil for gold;
the arctic trails have their secret tales
that would make your blood run cold;
the northern lights have seen queer sights,
but the queerest they ever did see
was that night on the marge of lake lebarge
i cremated sam mcgee.
now sam mcgee was from tennessee,
where the cotton blooms and blows.
why he left his home in the south to roam
āround the pole, god only knows.
he was always cold, but the land of gold
seemed to hold him like a spell;
though heād often say in his homely way
that heād āsooner live in hell.ā
on a christmas day we were mushing our way
over the dawson trail.
talk of your cold! through the parkaās fold
it stabbed like a driven nail.
if our eyes weād close, then the lashes froze
till sometimes we couldnāt see,
it wasnāt much fun, but the only one
to whimper was sam mcgee.
and that very night, as we lay packed tight
in our robes beneath the snow,
and the dogs were fed, and the stars oāerhead
were dancing heel and toe,
he turned to me, and ācap,ā says he,
āiāll cash in this trip, i guess;
and if i do, iām asking that you
wonāt refuse my last request.ā
well, he seemed so low that i couldnāt say no;
then he says with a sort of moan,
āitās the cursed cold, and itās got right hold
till iām chilled clean through to the bone.
yet ātaināt being deadāitās my awful dread
of the icy grave that pains;
so i want you to swear that, foul or fair,
youāll cremate my last remains.ā
a palās last need is a thing to heed,
so i swore i would not fail;
and we started on at the streak of dawn;
but god! he looked ghastly pale.
he crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day
of his home in tennessee;
and before nightfall a corpse was all
that was left of sam mcgee.
there wasnāt a breath in that land of death,
and i hurried, horror-driven,
with a corpse half hid that i couldnāt get rid,
because of a promise given;
it was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say:
āyou may tax your brawn and brains,
but you promised true, and itās up to you
to cremate these last remains.ā
now a promise made is a debt unpaid,
and the trail has its own stern code.
in the days to come, though my lips were dumb,
in my heart how i cursed that load!
in the long, long night, by the lone firelight,
while the huskies, round in a ring,
howled out their woes to the homeless snowsā
o god, how i loathed the thing!
and every day that quiet clay
seemed to heavy and heavier grow;
and on i went, though the dogs were spent
and the grub was getting low.
the trail was bad, and i felt half mad,
but i swore i would not give in;
and iād often sing to the hateful thing,
and it hearkened with a grin.
till i came to the marge of lake lebarge,
and a derelict there lay;
it was jammed in the ice, but i saw in a trice
it was called the alice may.
and i looked at it, and i thought a bit,
and i looked at my frozen chum;
then āhere,ā said i, with a sudden cry,
āis my cre-ma-tor-eum.ā
some planks i tore from the cabin floor,
and i lit the boiler fire;
some coal i found that was lying around,
and i heaped the fuel higher;
the flames just soared, and the furnace roaredā
such a blaze you seldom see,
and i burrowed a hole in the glowing coal,
and i stuffed in sam mcgee.
then i made a hike, for i didnāt like
to hear him sizzle so;
and the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled,
and the wind began to blow.
it was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled
down my cheeks, and i donāt know why;
and the greasy smoke in an inky cloak
went streaking down the sky.
i do not know how long in the snow
i wrestled with grisly fear;
but the stars came out and they danced about
ere again i ventured near;
i was sick with dread, but i bravely said,
āiāll just take a peep inside.
i guess heās cooked, and itās time i looked.ā
then the door i opened wide.
and there sat sam, looking cool and calm,
in the heart of the furnace roar;
and he wore a smile you could see a mile,
and he said, ā close that door.
itās fine in here, but i greatly fear
youāll let in the cold and stormā
since i left plumtree, down in tennessee,
itās the first time iāve been warm.ā
there are strange things done in the midnight sun
by the men who moil for gold;
the arctic trails have their secret tales
that would make your blood run cold;
the northern lights have seen queer sights,
but the queerest they ever did see
was that night on the marge of lake lebarge
i cremated sam mcgee.
reread the bolded lines from stanza 2 of the poem.
how does the poet's use of the words "live in hell" affect the poem?
question 1 options:
it relates to the strange things that happen in the midnight sun.
it emphasizes the heat in tennessee in the summer.
it suggests a tone of distress.
it foreshadows the outcome for sam in the furnace of the alice may.
Answers: 1
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