Einar Benediktsson, the early 1900s Icelandic poet and entrepreneur who wanted to sell foreigners the Northern Lights.

Einar Benediktsson was born in the year 1864 in Gullbringusýsla, Iceland. In 1897, he wrote this poem about the Northern Lights.

WAS ever such vision to mortals sent
As Northern Lights in the heavens flaming?
The shoreline a golden archway framing.
-- Who now is at drinking and cards content? --
The earth lies serene and on sleep intent
Under a cover of roses decaying.
Rare colors the grains of sand present.
Where waters meet, there is a silver spraying.
The north is aglow with an ornate show.
Of Borealis' displaying.
 

From the seventh heav'n to the ocean's rim,
The suns hold a dance with the curtain lifted.
And white-capped billows of light are shifted,
Then break on a strand of shadows dim.
An unseen hand directs at its whim
This glittering round of streamers flowing.
To regions of light from the darkness grim,
All earth-life now turns with fervor growing.
-- And a crystal gaze on the glowing haze
The hoary cliffs bestowing.
 

How base seem the issues and trifling the call
That claims our life -- or we strive denying.
Let mortals attack me with hatred defying,
I now feel at peace with each creature small.
So fair and immense is this vault over all --
And smiling the stars, though our hopes be arrested.
The mind goes soaring, no heights appall --
Divine is the power through the dust manifested.
We fathom our strength -- our rights are at length
In the kingdom of light attested.
 

How mighty an ocean the heavens bright --
And brave the vessels attempting the sailing.
A haven they seek with courage unfailing,
Whether they swerve or their course holds right;
But none have beheld Him who gave us sight,
Nor shown us the source of these marvels abiding.
At the door of His temple, this glorious night,
In homage they pray from their hearts confiding.
But vainly they wait -- for locked is each gate,
And silent the spirit presiding.