“When the ship’s path is stopped by fathom-thick ice,
And winter’s white covering is spread,
When we’re quite given up to the power of the stream,
Oh! ’tis then that so often of home we must dream.
“We wish them all joy at this sweet Christmas-tide,
Health and happiness for the next year,
Ourselves patience to wait; ’twill bring us to the Pole,
And home the next spring, never fear!”
There were many more poems, among others one giving some account of the principal events of the last weeks, in this style:
“Bears are seen, and dogs are born,