Explore "Song of the Wise Children" by Rudyard Kipling on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
When the darkened Fifties dip to the North, / And frost and the fog divide the air, / And the day is dead at his breaking-forth, / Sirs, it is bitter beneath the Bear!
Far to Southward they wheel and glance, / The million molten spears of morn -- / The spears of our deliverance / That shine on the house where we were born.