Southern Snow

Beyond the waters, way below,
Lie shiny caps of Southern snow,
Beneath the songs of South Seas,
Reside its blinding mysteries.

How could it be that past the palms,
The hoolahs, and Pacific calms,
There could exist a cold abyss
Of dazzling white in starry bliss?

Us, Arctic folks cannot believe,
That Southern skies can coldness weave,
That just behind the Tonga chiefs
And warm and fruitful coral reefs,

There lies again another chill
Of glossy hoar in eerie still.