Explore "The Pines" by Robert W. Service on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
We sleep in the sleep of ages, the bleak, barbarian pines; / The grey moss drapes us like sages, and closer we lock our lines, / And deeper we clutch through the gelid gloom where never a sunbeam shines.
On the flanks of the storm-gored ridges are our black battalions massed; / We surge in a host to the sullen coast, and we sing in the ocean blast; / From empire of sea to empire of snow we grip our empire fast.