The Cremation of Sam McGee
Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail. (line 14)
And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale.
He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee; (lines 26-27)
In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load (line 35)