“He must increase, and I must decrease!”
I’m sad to say I missed the Northern Lights earlier this week, but here’s an old poem by the Protestant preacher and fantasy writer, George Macdonald.
The Aurora Borealis
Now have I grown a sharpness and an edge
Unto my future nights, and I will cut
Sheer through the ebon gates that yet will shut
On every set of day; or as a sledge
Drawn over snowy plains; where not a hedge
Breaks this Aurora’s dancing, nothing but
The one cold Esquimaux’ unlikely hut
That swims in the broad moonlight! Lo, a wedge
Of the clean meteor hath been brightly driven
Right home into the fastness of the north!
Anon it quickeneth up into the heaven!
And I with it have clomb and spreaded forth
Upon the crisp and cooling atmosphere!
My soul is all abroad: I cannot find it here!
A nice relentless use of meter and rhyme scheme, so that the sonnet pounds to a climax.