I don't know any songs, but Robert Service had this lovely stanza in the 'Shooting of Dan McGrew':

Were you ever out the Great Alone when the moon was awful clear
And the icy mountains hemmed you in with a silence you most could hear;
With only the howl of a timber wolf, and you camped there in the cold,
A half-dead thing in a stark dead world, clean made for the muck called gold;
While high overhead, green, yellow and red, the North Lights swept in bars
Then you've a hunch what the music meant ... hunger and night and the stars.