Speak of the North! A lonely moor br Silent and dark and tractless swells, br The waves of some wild streamlet pour br Hurriedly through its ferny dells. br br Profoundly still the twilight air, br Lifeless the landscape; so we deem br Till like a phantom gliding near br A stag bends down to drink the stream. br br And far away a mountain zone, br A cold, white waste of snow-drifts lies, br And one star, large and soft and lone, br Silently lights the unclouded skies.