On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way
from The Cremation of Sam McGee, by Robert W. Service
over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka’s fold
it stabbed like a driven nail.
I’m considering committing to the position that this is the best poem ever written.
Out of Babel Books 
I have read this poem. I like how it set up the cold atmosphere that leads to a surprise ending.
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The ending is great, and hilarious, and the language in every stanza is just perfect.
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