Far to the north midst ice and snow,
where the hoary wind does blow,
from the frigid soil grows,
something great, with love aglow.
Pushing up through permafrost,
something once thought to be lost,
something nothing can exhaust,
something with a priceless cost.
I'm proud to have helped it flower,
with gentle rain and sunshine showered.
Built for it a sturdy bower,
over oh so many hours.
And now I simply let it bloom,
freed now from its icy tomb.
I'll try to give it ample room
and fight to keep it free from gloom.
