120 



THE OOLOGIST 



Hear from Northland 



The rise and fall! — 

 She calls her elves and fairies, wee, 

 To make a pilgrimage to me. 



Hark, sad souls moan 



Throughout the room; 

 Soft shadows roam 



Within the gloom; 

 Phantom beings flit ev'rywhere, 

 Appealing, bowing near my chair! 

 So, here they are 



From icy shoal. 

 From mountain far. 



And Northern Pole; 

 From Hudson's great expansive bay, 

 From lands where all is night or day. 



Say, have they come 



To claim the flow 

 Which stained the loam 



When huntsman's bow 

 Sent death unto this bird of white. 

 Angelic symbol, Aurora's Light? 

 Why are they here? 



What do they seek? 

 I only fear 



That if I speak 

 These sparkling, flashing gleams of 



light 

 Will vanish quickly from my sight 



"Aurora, dear," 



They say to me, 

 "Has sent us here. 



This soul to free 

 From wires, and cotton, thread and 



glass, 

 And fade the blood-stains from the 



grass. 

 She has not claimed 



This dress of white, 

 Nor body maimed 



By huntsman's might; 

 She merely bids this soul to go 

 Back to her Northern Fields of Snow!" 



I bow and say 



In shame and guilt, 

 "Sad was the day 



This blood was spilt; 

 Fair Nature mourns such loss as this; 



Without her beauty, life's amiss; 

 I'd rather see 



This bird in flight; 

 But here it be 



A ray of light 

 To lead the way to better things 

 Which Nature's lesson always brings! 



"Valkyrias, brave. 



Come take this soul 

 Not to the grave 



But to its goal; 

 For, though I love this pioneer, 

 I know I must not keep him here. 

 God gives to us 



In His great plan. 

 No greater trust 



For ev'ry man 

 Than all of Nature's laws to heed. 

 Care for and save for ev'ry creed." 



Elves and goblins 



Kneel in prayer, 

 Fairies move in 



Silence there, 

 And bring from out the case of show, 

 A pigmy form of whitest snow, 

 A, song is heard 



Throughout the room, 

 Soft, low, and wierd. 



In deepest gloom; 

 A moment now, and hushed is all; 

 Then far away comes clarion call. 



The moonbeams train 



Their silver light 

 Through window pane. 



On left and right; 

 The goblins, fairies, elves and all 

 Depart for whence they heard the call. 

 No muffled drum, 



Or weeping dirge; 

 Just low, soft hum 



Amid the surge 

 That wafts these elfish beings, white. 

 Small pigmy ghosts, on pale moonlight. 



So, o'er the snow 



And ice and frost. 

 Processions go, 



Aurora's host. 

 Back to the land of Northern Sea, 



I 



