Let Us Hear It For the North!

The luxury of sand and water; bathed in sun,
Is pleasant for a time, and well to have.
But to live in the North, the luxury is shun,
Even if only for death, there will be my grave.

To constantly indulge these sensual desires,
In our minds to this we may allude.
But to keep farthest away from dangerous fires,
Our flesh becomes unwittingly crude.

To be called "of the North" a compliment sure,
Negative implications cannot be found.
For the North and Her perils encourage the pure,
To cultivate and use the hard brittle ground.

Dost thou prefer ecstasy om earth?
Free of duty, having relaxed pride.
You will become soft, losing your worth,
As wit and muscle un-becomingly fried.

We are assured the North is that great,
For the promised gain is pursued there.
Securing this danger is hard to relate,
As futility she maketh it wholly unfair.

But Futility! That is a different story,
For later I'll speak of all it's glory.

By Evan Gunn Wilson

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