Poetry
Love Among the Snows
Tax mountaineers have gone upon a wrong quest Among the eternal snows which nothing necks ; We shall not see great Barnet and its conquest Because it has no interest of sex.
The giant glaciers and the silent spaces That crown the Empire's highest peak but one Are banned for having no wide, open faces, No goo-goo eyes, no villain with a gun.
Let them take heed this summer (when assailing The greater Nanga Parbat) to provide Some strong, red-blooded tale of love prevailing, With sundry corpses down the mountain side.
They must take with them a prognathous hero, And half the wide-eyed beauties of the West, And show us love triumphant (below zero) Right to that long-drawn kiss upon the crest.
And if the cast, when coming down below, drift Apart from the explorers, losing touch, And slumber peacefully beneath a snowdrift,
I do not think that it will matter much.
J. B. Nersburzr.
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