That fetters with ice all the northern sea;
That chills all the green on the fair earth’s breast,
And as certainly kills as the un-stayed pest.
It lies in the hands of the man who’d sell
His hold on his life for an ice-bound hell.
What care we for the fevered brain
That’s filled with ravings and thoughts insane,
So long as we hold
In our hands the gold?—
The glistening, glittering, ghastly gold