In The Land of the Midnight Sun
Summer is passing by and the change is felt most quickly in the North. My armchair has taken me to Dawson City and the cabin of Robert Service, poet of the Klondike. The little log house remains on a small rise as he left it in 1912, sagging slightly with age, its roof covered with moss and surrounded by towering birch trees. The site is a popular tourist destination even though the fragile state of the old cabin means the visitor gets only a glimpse through the window and door to see the humble setting where Service composed his popular ballads and a novel that told the stories of the Sourdoughs, the gold and the cold. I have taken this glimpse of the cabin and crafting a small home fit for an adventurous Sim.
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.
There hasn't been any comments yet, be the first to post one!