alaterdate | Smoke from This Altar (Reply)

Posting some of my favorite Louis L'Amour poems from his collection Smoke from This Altar.

Out of the Ocean Depths Soundlessly Moving

Out of the ocean depths
   soundlessly moving—
Up from the violet
   unblossoming sea;
Out of the vastness
   that strangely disturbing,
Troubles my heart
   with mute colloquy;

Out of the distance
   that holds me enchanted,
Up from the green,
   shifting violence below—
A voice from the twilight,
   the beauty, the stillness,
A voice that comes calling
   and calling to go.

Out of the purple
   along the horizon,
Up from the endless
   unchallenged beyond—
A call that comes whispering,
   softly, enduring—
Of ways to go wandering,
   seas so alluring.

Out of the ocean depths
   soundlessly moving—
Up from my memories
   disturbing and deep;
A spirit that urges me
   restlessly onward,
A dreaming that haunts me
   awake and asleep.

Words from a Wanderer

I do not know your wooded slopes and streams
   But as the passing stranger knows the way
   The nets of dusk have trapped the ending day,
When the webs of shadow snare the filtered gleams;
I only know how dim the pathway seems
   And how the dust from many roads of gray,
   Has sunk into my heart and made me pay
With tears and loneliness for these few dreams.

I do not know the way the hearth-light burns
   Nor how the kiss of childish lips may feel,
I only know the way the mad sea churns
   And how the blowing spray, like bits of steel,
Can tear like savage teeth, and rip from me,
   These last reluctant hopes, and leave me free.

Without This Land [Excerpt]

Not here am I to lean against a tree,
Feeling the furrowed bark beneath my hand
And knowing it and I were rooted deep
In this same loam; not here am I to feel
The soil is one with me, with my flesh,
This heart, this brain; not here am I at home
Nor yet upon the sea where long slate swells
And slowly heaves and rolls and flings itself
Against the bulwarked rocks, to roll again
And yet again with long repeated blows.
Not here am I at home, for this quick flesh
Is born of many seas and many roads—

Life

I dream, and my dreams are all broken;
I love and my loving is vain…
I speak, and the words are all spoken,
I look and see nothing but pain.

Leave me, O Night, of your stillness
   A calm for my inward soul—
Leave me a breath of your darkness
   To cool me, and keep me whole;
Leave me the wind in the willows
   The roll of the surf and the sea—
Leave me, Beloved, my memories
   Of dreams you have given to me.

The Weary One

I wandered along the dusty way
   seeking the dawn of another day,
     like a drifting chip on a lonely stream,
     like a breath of wind or a vagrant dream
   a forgotten soul on a weary quest
searching for a home and love and rest.

I wandered along the dusty way
   and found my idols with feet of clay,
     my letters were ashes, my castles dust—
     the sword I wielded eaten by rust,
   my dreams were shattered—a heavy load
is all that is left on a winding road.

The Sea, Off Vanua Levu

There is a beauty in this beyond believing,
A strength that is stronger than the hands of men,
There is a glory in this that is greater than grieving
That brings a stillness to my heart again;

There is a power in this beyond longing or laughter,
A grandeur unmeasured by cloud or sky—
There is a sounding here, and an echo after—
A sounding of surf and a sea-gull's cry;

There is an ending here, for the time, of emotion
Of sorrow and sadness, of envy and fear;
All these are forgotten beside the wide ocean,
That gray rolling splendor, cold and austere.

If There Is Beauty

If there is beauty after this
   Or any quiet joy, or imagery
   Of happiness that we may share, then we
Must never hesitate, nor be remiss;
If in the after years the deep abyss
   Of sorrow draws you close, and mournfully
   The old dreams die, then you must turn to me
And to this love that needs no emphasis.

If, when tomorrow comes, the things you knew
   No longer are, but like an empty town
   Whose windows catch the fading sunset flame,
Your eyes reflect your loneliness, and you
   Watch one by one the swifter years go down—
   Then turn to me, for I shall be the same.

I Came To Create

I came to create on a larger scale—
To shape a universe of stars and suns,
To chart the comet's course, and map the runs
Of hurtling meteors down the midnight trail;
I came to carve out mountain-tops, to flail
Sun-burnished clouds to splendid shapes; I came
To write across the sky in words of flame
A stronger, sweeter song, a grander tale.

I came to walk with gods and found them men
So blind with greed they had not paused to see
How hunger walked with hoplessness again—
I came to create and remain to plea
For those without the words to speak, for all
The disinherited—is this so small?