Beyond the Requiems 
 
 Louis Alexander Robertson 
 
Class y^'6SlS_ 
 
 Book .PjsBt 
 
 Copyright N° 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSrr. 
 
Beyond the Requiems 
 
 And Other Verses 
 
Beyond the Requiems 
 
 And Other Verses 
 
 By 
 Louis Alexander Robertson 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 THE DEAD CALYPSO' 
 AND OTHER VERSES 
 
 ') ' J » J ) 
 
 A. M. ROBERTSON 
 
 SAN FRANCISCO 
 
 1902 
 
THE LIBRARY OF 
 CO N« HESS, 
 
 T,yO CUHU; KfcCUVED 
 
 NOV fV 't^O? 
 
 CLASaC^^XXc No. 
 COPY B. 
 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1902 
 
 BY 
 
 LOUIS A, ROBERTSON 
 
 • • • • *•• • ••• ••• a - > 
 
 ***** «*€**• • • •** 
 
 The Murdock Press 
 San Francisco 
 
TO CHARLES JOSSELYN 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PROEM : THE SHRINE OF SONG 
 
 BEYOND THE REQUIEMS 
 
 VERSES TO GEORGE T, BROMLEY 
 
 THE SUNBEAM 
 
 A RHYME OF THE REDEEMED 
 
 let's KISS A KISS . 
 
 DREAM SONG 
 
 GIVE ME THY LIPS 
 
 THE ROSE 
 
 ABANDONED 
 
 REPARATION 
 
 THE DREAM . 
 
 AFTERGLOW 
 
 STOLEN WATERS 
 
 LOVE LAUGHING LOW 
 
 THE TWILIGHT HOUR 
 
 THE TELLTALE MARKS 
 
 THE CRIMSONED GIFT 
 
 LUST*S TIGER-TEETH 
 
 THE PUNCH-BOWL . 
 
 TO MARIANA 
 
 PROMETHEUS 
 
 THE VANISHED VINTAGE 
 
 A WITHERED SHEAF 
 
 PACK 
 
 9 
 
 23 
 
 29 
 
 30 
 40 
 
 41 
 
 43 
 44 
 47 
 49 
 52 
 53 
 54 
 55 
 56 
 57 
 58 
 
 59 
 60 
 61 
 62 
 63 
 65 
 
PROEM 
 
 THE SHRINE OF SONG 
 
 In mute amazement oft I pause before 
 
 The portals of Song s shrine and list to those 
 Whose music from its classic cloisters flows 
 
 A down the tide of Time for evermore, 
 
 I see the place that no man may explore^ 
 
 Save him whose Art its life to Genius owes^ 
 On whose rapt lips the sacred cinder glows 
 
 That teaches Songs sweet shibboleth and lore. 
 
 Ah, it were heaven to enter in and kneel 
 In some dim aisle, unnoticed and apart. 
 
 With thirsting soul to drink the sounds that 
 shame 
 My songs to silence; then to rise and feel 
 That my untutored lips had learnt the art 
 
 That seats the singer in the House of Fame I 
 
BEYOND THE REQUIEMS 
 
 Not in cataclysmal chaos, earthquake, fire, or 
 
 flood, or blast. 
 Waits the world to hear the summons calling her 
 
 to death at last. 
 
 Oft she hears a muttered menace, sees the ghastly 
 
 lightnings gleam. 
 And the slumbering volcano vomit forth its lethal 
 
 stream ; 
 
 Oft she sees the wind-whipped waters leaping to 
 
 the sullen skies. 
 And the foaming tidal terror in its deadly might 
 
 arise ; 
 
 II 
 
BEYOND THE REQUIEMS 
 
 But still deaf to all the dirges that have rolled 
 
 above her dead. 
 And the songs that stir the living, she has ever 
 
 onward sped. 
 
 As when first a vagrant vapor thrown from off the 
 
 glowing breast 
 Of her mighty parent planet, up the shining 
 
 pathway pressed, 
 
 Lifeless, nebulous, and naked, save the vesture 
 
 that was drawn 
 Round her like a misty mantle as she speeded to 
 
 the dawn. 
 
 Who can guess the Force that flung her out upon 
 
 the star-strown deep. 
 Clasped her cloudy cincture round her, taught her 
 
 how her course to keep 
 
 12 
 
 I 
 
BEYOND THE REQUIEMS 
 
 Through the vast uncharted regions, — orbed her, 
 
 shaped her, round her flung 
 Icy bands and frozen fetters that for aeons to her 
 
 clung ? 
 
 Long she drifted through the darkness, but at 
 
 last the Word was heard, 
 And the cold, insensate sleeper to the wakening 
 
 message stirred; 
 
 Felt the quickening breath that melted frozen 
 
 field and moor and main. 
 Drank the draught of saving sunlight, lost the 
 
 winter-woven chain; 
 
 Grew in grandeur and in beauty, soaring to the 
 
 noonday height, 
 Till the mighty Hand that hurled her out upon 
 
 the cosmic night 
 
 13 
 
BEYOND THE REQUIEMS 
 
 Draws her back to death and darkness, shrouds 
 
 her in her ice once more, 
 Stripped of all her garnered glory, all her science, 
 
 song, and lore. 
 
 There shall be no eye to see it, — life shall 
 
 long have left the earth, 
 When she reels a dying planet to the breast that 
 
 gave her birth. 
 
 All our knowledge is as nothing; Reason reels 
 
 and Science sneers, 
 Faith before her falling altars lifts her fearless 
 
 face and hears 
 
 Every cherished creed derided, but still mumbles 
 
 to her beads. 
 Dreaming that beyond the requiems deathless life 
 
 to death succeeds. 
 
 14 
 
BEYOND THE REQUIEMS 
 
 Hope's pale star still smiles above us, distant, 
 
 indistinct, and cold ; 
 As the primal moth beheld it do we now its 
 
 beams behold. 
 
 Are we nearer than the nascent life that slum- 
 bered in the slime. 
 
 When the protoplasmic moner scanned the steeps 
 that it must climb? 
 
 Or the microcosmic atom, ere its fetters left it 
 
 free ? 
 Or the blind bathybius sleeping at the bottom of 
 
 the sea? 
 
 Yea, the germ, primordial, potent, saw the goal 
 
 that it must gain, 
 Found a hovel in man's body, built a palace in 
 
 his brain. 
 
 15 
 
BEYOND THE REQUIEMS 
 
 And the selfsame seeds that wakened with it in 
 
 earth's virgin womb 
 Fill the fields with fragrant blossoms, or in 
 
 poisoned petals bloom; 
 
 Make the wilderness grow vocal with the voice 
 
 of bird and brute. 
 Send the great Sequoia skyward, gnaw in cankers 
 
 at its root; 
 
 Never swerving from the settled purpose of the 
 primal plan. 
 
 Save when planted in the passions and the burn- 
 ing brain of man; 
 
 There, oft glorious, often ghastly, oft degraded, 
 
 oft divine. 
 Sometimes soaring to the stars, and sometimes 
 
 wallowing with the swine ; 
 i6 
 
BEYOND THE REQUIEMS 
 
 Always out of tune with Nature ; is the human 
 
 brute the best ? 
 Fated to the thralling thirst that burns forever in 
 
 his breast, 
 
 That hath ever urged us onward o'er life's sterile 
 sands, till we — 
 
 Rich in knowledge, rich in wisdom, panting for- 
 ward — ever see 
 
 Silent and untrodden regions over which the 
 
 mirage beams. 
 But its tempting trees and waters murmur only 
 
 in our dreams. 
 
 They have murmured unto myriads and beguiled 
 
 them in the past; 
 They will call through coming ages long as life 
 
 on earth shall last. 
 
 17 
 
BEYOND THE REQUIEMS 
 
 When she hurries through the spaces on to where 
 
 the peril hides, 
 As some bark on her own bosom sails through 
 
 tranquil tropic tides. 
 
 Freighted full with costly treasures, till at last a 
 
 brisker breeze 
 Drives her from the summer ocean into dark and 
 
 winter seas. 
 
 Where the icy currents clasp her, and the frozen 
 
 mists overwhelm 
 With their adamantine shackles mast and sail and 
 
 hull and helm, 
 
 And the bark becomes the coffin of her dying 
 
 crew who gaze 
 On some spectre sail that mocks them as it passes 
 
 in the haze. 
 
 i8 
 
 i 
 
BEYOND THE REQUIEMS 
 
 So the life that lingers latest on this planet still 
 
 will yearn 
 For the peace the world denies it, yea, though it 
 
 again return 
 
 To the lowest type that sheltered in its breast 
 
 Hope's latent spark, 
 And then fanned it to the fatuous flame that lures 
 
 us through the dark. 
 
 All our philosophic pedants, all our sons of 
 
 Science know 
 Not a whit more than that dullard knew a million 
 
 years ago. 
 
 As to where the spirit wanders when the body 
 
 sinks in death. 
 For beyond the grave's black portals never man 
 
 has breathed one breath. 
 
 19 
 
BEYOND THE REQUIEMS 
 
 We have probed the past and hunted in its deep- 
 est, darkest cells, 
 
 But the secret still eludes us, never by one whis- 
 per tells 
 
 Whence Life drew its first faint tremor, for it 
 was not born of naught; 
 
 Never seed spontaneous blossoms till the quick- 
 ening breath be brought. 
 
 As we know not the beginning, so we may not 
 
 know the end. 
 But as life from life first started, back through 
 
 death to life 't will wend. 
 
 Now and then some guide arises who would turn 
 
 us from our path 
 With sweet promises that please us, or with 
 
 threats of future wrath. 
 
 20 
 
BEYOND THE REQUIEMS 
 
 We have listened to His lessons, heard the 
 
 Nazarene's behest, — 
 " Follow me, my way-worn children ; I alone can 
 
 give ye rest." 
 
 We have wondered, as we hearkened unto Bud- 
 dha's pleading voice. 
 
 If to find the peace men long for they could make 
 a wiser choice. 
 
 We have seen the swarthy Arab step athwart our 
 
 path and say, 
 "Ye shall drink the living waters if my precepts 
 
 ye obey." 
 
 We have searched the stars above us for the 
 
 secret, but no beam 
 Lights our darkened path to guide us to the goal 
 
 of which we dream. 
 
 21 
 
BEYOND THE REQUIEMS 
 
 Little help or hope we gather from the annals 
 
 of the past, 
 All its poets, priests, and sages, all the wisdom 
 
 which they massed, 
 
 All its fables, faiths, and fictions, all its temples, 
 triumphs, tomes. 
 
 Tell us nothing of the region where the flesh- 
 freed spirit roams. 
 
 22 
 
VERSES 
 
 READ AT A BANQUET GIVEN BY THE BOHEMIAN CLUB, 
 
 SAN FRANCISCO, TO GEORGE T. BROMLEY, ON 
 
 HIS EIGHTY-FIFTH BIRTHDAY 
 
 Time's record shows, when closely conned, 
 
 Fair women and brave men 
 Who loved and laughed long years beyond 
 
 The Psalmist's three-score-ten: 
 With added age they seemed to thrive. 
 
 And did their youth renew ; 
 The God who keeps the saint alive 
 
 Preserves the sinner too. 
 
 23 
 
VERSES 
 
 We bar the patriarchs who trod 
 
 The earth before the flood, 
 And Mammon's selfish sons who plod 
 
 Through life with stagnant blood. 
 Sainted or sordid never feel 
 
 The pulse with rapture rife, 
 When Hebe's rich red lips reveal 
 
 The lore that lengthens life. 
 
 That secret murmured in the breeze 
 
 That kissed the crested tide 
 When Cytherea trod the seas, 
 
 And it has never died; 
 To Dionysus it was told. 
 
 And in his flagon flushed 
 When from the purple grapes of old 
 
 Its meaning first was crushed. 
 
 24 
 
VERSES 
 
 It taught the Teian till he laughed 
 
 At Chronos* dismal chime; 
 It rippled from the cup he quaffed 
 
 In many a glowing rhyme: 
 Venus and Bacchus — at each shrine 
 
 He worshiped oft and long, 
 Saw Beauty blushing in the wine 
 
 And crowned her with a song. 
 
 It makes the heart beat wild and warm 
 
 In many a snowy breast; 
 Ninon de Lenclos and Delorme 
 
 Were courted and caressed 
 When nigh a hundred years had passed 
 
 In revel and romance; 
 They held in homage till the last 
 
 The royal rakes of France. 
 
 25 
 
VERSES 
 
 Why ponder over pagan creed, 
 
 Or Epicurus* cult, 
 Or in Time's rusty roster read. 
 
 Or Pleasure's page consult. 
 When in the living flesh we see. 
 
 Lusty and all alive, 
 One who has climbed the years till he 
 
 Sits throned on Eighty-five. 
 
 Bohemia's bards his triumphs sing. 
 
 Her sons and sages raise 
 Their voices till the rafters ring 
 
 And echo back his praise; 
 They love the Genius of their joys, 
 
 The Master of their mirth, — 
 Mirth that no malice e'er alloys, 
 
 And Wit with Wisdom's worth, — 
 
 26 
 
VERSES 
 
 Their King of revels who can drive 
 
 Their grief and gloom away, 
 Their Priest of pleasure who can shrive 
 
 Their thirsting souls next day. 
 Hesper may herald in the feast, 
 
 The glasses clink and foam 
 Till Eos blushes in the east. 
 
 And all have wandered home ; 
 
 Then, fresh as one whose night has passed 
 
 In slumber till the dawn. 
 He '11 linger on until the last 
 
 Bold bacchanal has gone. 
 He proves that Pleasure's cup may bring 
 
 A blessing, not a blight; 
 For him it holds no adder's sting. 
 
 But Life's elixir bright. 
 
 27 
 
VERSES 
 
 And so he laughs at Time, who lays 
 
 On him the lightest load; 
 And when in Pleasure's path he strays, 
 
 He finds few thorns to goad. 
 His is the best philosophy, — 
 
 The wisdom that outwears 
 All other creeds, — and we shall see 
 
 Him live a hundred years. 
 
 Now let the jest and laughter lull. 
 
 The glasses cease to clink ; 
 The Owl who sits on Sorrow's skull 
 
 Gives you this toast to drink : 
 "We Ve seen him turn night into day, 
 
 December into June, — 
 May the Lord love him long, we say. 
 
 Nor call for him too soon." 
 
 28 
 
THE SUNBEAM 
 
 Through skies all overcast 
 
 The sun shone clear. 
 When tears were falling fast, 
 Through skies all overcast 
 A beam broke through at last, 
 
 Dispelling fear. 
 Through skies all overcast 
 The sun shone clear. 
 
 29 
 
A RHYME OF THE REDEEMED 
 
 To the regions where the righteous dwell in ever- 
 lasting peace, 
 To the House of Many Mansions in the skies, 
 Where the Halls of Heaven echo to the songs 
 that never cease. 
 And the dawnless day in darkness never dies; 
 Where the prophets, priests, and martyrs, and the 
 saved and sainted stray 
 Through the streets of gold that like to crystal 
 gleam, 
 Once my spirit in a slumber burst the shackles 
 of the clay. 
 And I passed the gates of heaven in a dream. 
 30 
 
A RHYME OF THE REDEEMED 
 
 There I saw the shining city with its walls of 
 precious stone, — 
 Jasper, jacinth, amethyst, and chrysolite, — 
 And the crystal river ever flowing forth beneath 
 the throne. 
 And the trees whose leaves are balm for every 
 blight; 
 Heard the clear celestial chorus and the never- 
 ending hymn. 
 And the harps that never know a tuneless 
 chord ; 
 Saw the princely six-winged angels and the shining 
 seraphim 
 Hide their faces as they bent before the Lord. 
 
 Like the sands upon the seashore, or the stars 
 that gem the sky, 
 Did that multitude exceed all human count; 
 31 
 
A RHYME OF THE REDEEMED 
 
 There the vilest who find mercy when the last 
 dark hour is nigh. 
 As the thief who hung beside Him on the 
 mount. 
 Stand with legions of the chosen, gleaned from 
 every clime and creed. 
 With a pardon purchased by the Paraclete : 
 Some by faith oft find salvation, and some gain it 
 by a deed. 
 Like the woman of the town who kissed His 
 feet. 
 
 There I saw her, and saw many who like her had 
 loved and erred. 
 And among them one who had from childhood 
 grown 
 Like a pure and peerless lily, till the serpent's 
 hiss she heard 
 In the flowers that along her path were strown. 
 32 
 
A RHYME OF THE REDEEMED 
 
 Then she rose like her of Corinth, — for her fault- 
 less form and face 
 Made sin seem a thing to worship and to 
 bless; 
 She was wooed by Wit and Wisdom, Rank and 
 Wealth sought her embrace. 
 And men journeyed from afar for her caress. 
 
 Much I marveled as I saw her, and I bade her 
 tell me how 
 She had washed her scarlet raiment into white; 
 How she stood among the ransomed with a halo 
 on her brow. 
 How her sinful soul had reached that realm of 
 light. 
 As she turned and looked upon me, from her lips 
 the story came 
 Of the sacred spark that sometimes smoulder- 
 ing lies 
 
 33 
 
A RHYME OF THE REDEEMED 
 
 Deep in sin, then like a phoenix through the 
 ashen heaps of shame 
 Bursts in beauty and on wings of mercy 
 flies. 
 
 " It was Christmas Eve/' she told me, " and the 
 night was wild and cold ; 
 I was speeding through the darkness unto 
 one 
 Whom I loved, — not for his bounty, though he 
 gave me gems and gold; 
 But there is no word in Love's long lexicon 
 That can tell the burning torture of the thirst 
 that often craves 
 In the hearts of hapless women who are 
 thrown 
 Like to waifs upon the waters, but at last across 
 the waves 
 See the saving sail of rescue to them blown. 
 34 
 
A RHYME OF THE REDEEMED 
 
 " Thus my soul was thirsting for him, and my 
 heart began to beat 
 With the hope that he would call me wife at 
 last, 
 When I looked and saw a woman crouching in a 
 darkened street. 
 And I heard her moan with anguish as I 
 passed. 
 As f'^I heard that wail of sorrow, quick from 
 pleasure's path I turned 
 And soon bent above the sufferer where she lay; 
 She was faint with pain and hunger, and I saw 
 that she had learned 
 The dark lesson of the love that leads astray. 
 
 " Little cared I for the Levites that passed on the 
 other side, 
 Or for those who quickly gathered round me 
 there: 
 
 35 
 
A RHYME OF THE REDEEMED 
 
 I, a sinner, turned Samaritan and helped her 
 when she cried. 
 As God heard, ere many days, my own last 
 prayer. 
 
 Then I flung my robe around her, took her 
 home, and she was laid 
 On my bed, by which I watched her until 
 morn; 
 As the cold gray dawn of Christmas o'er her 
 pallid features strayed. 
 On a sinner's couch a sinless soul was born. 
 
 " With her child upon her bosom soon in sleep I 
 saw her lie. 
 Then outworn I sank in slumber there by 
 them; 
 Soon 1 heard an angel chorus rolling through 
 the winter sky, — 
 'T was the herald hymn they heard in Bethle- 
 hem; 
 
 36 
 
A RHYME OF THE REDEEMED 
 
 Then my dreaming senses drifted through the 
 years unto the time 
 Of my girlhood and the place where I was 
 born. 
 And in my dreams I fancied that I heard again 
 the chime 
 I had often listened to on Christmas morn. 
 
 " Once again within the little village church I 
 seemed to kneel. 
 Once again the blessed anthem seemed to 
 hear. 
 And a peace that passeth telling o*er my spirit 
 then did steal. 
 And I woke and saw God's saving purpose 
 clear. 
 Though 't was He who called my soul from sin 
 unto salvation when 
 The young sufferer cried tome, I knew it not; 
 37 
 
A RHYME OF THE REDEEMED 
 
 It was woman unto woman, sinner unto sinner 
 then, — 
 'T was the sympathy by impulse oft begot. 
 
 " But ere many days the icy darts, which first I 
 did not feel 
 When I gave my cloak to shield her from the 
 blast, 
 Were soon burning in my bosom, and I saw the 
 Spoiler steal 
 Through the gloom and stand beside my couch 
 at last. 
 Then the lips that Sin had silenced unto prayer 
 began to plead 
 For forgiveness as life swiftly ebbed away ; 
 Then I cried aloud for mercy in my souFs 
 extremest need, 
 And I heard a voice these words of comfort 
 say: — 
 
 38 
 
A RHYME OF THE REDEEMED 
 
 " ' I was sick and I was hungry, I was naked, and 
 ye came 
 In my misery and ministered to me; 
 Inasmuch as you have done it to this woman 
 you may claim 
 The salvation that from sin shall set you free/ 
 Then the gloom began to gather, but a Hand in 
 mine I felt 
 As my spirit through the shades of darkness 
 passed, 
 But soon woke and saw the shadows in a death- 
 less glory melt. 
 And beheld my Saviour face to face at last." 
 
 39 
 
LET'S KISS A KISS 
 
 Let 's kiss a kiss and vow a vow 
 
 And lightly laugh at far-ofF years ; 
 Ere yet beneath their weight we bow. 
 Let 's kiss a kiss and vow a vow 
 That age shall find us then as now 
 
 Linked by a love that never fears. 
 Let 's kiss a kiss and vow a vow 
 And lightly laugh at far-off years. 
 
 40 
 
DREAM SONG 
 
 Though far away, my spirit wings 
 
 Its constant flight to thee; 
 My eyelids close, the captive springs 
 
 Exulting to be free. 
 Unstayed by mountain, stream, or plain. 
 
 Unheeding time or space. 
 In dreams I hear thy voice again 
 
 And look upon thy face. 
 
 Far, far away where fields are green. 
 
 And flowers spring fresh and fair; 
 Where in the distant heavens, unseen. 
 
 The lark sings loud and clear; 
 Where murmuring streams in music glide 
 
 To some far summer sea, 
 I wander happy at thy side, 
 
 In golden dreams of thee. 
 41 
 
DREAM SONG 
 
 I dreamt one night that heart to heart 
 
 At last we stood confessed ; 
 United, never more to part, 
 
 I drew thee to my breast 
 And kissed away the happy tears, 
 
 For in thy love-lit eyes 
 I saw an answer to my prayers, 
 
 And heard it in thy sighs. 
 
 When heaven with rosy dawn is flushed. 
 
 Then stars of midnight pale. 
 As every other song is hushed 
 
 When wakes the nightingale. 
 So when I meet thee face to face. 
 
 As night before the day. 
 Forgotten in thy close embrace. 
 
 The dream will fade away. 
 
 42 
 
GIVE ME THY LIPS 
 
 Give me thy lips, and let me feel 
 
 That they forgiveness grant 
 For much that these poor rhymes reveal. 
 Give me thy lips, and let me feel 
 The raptures that once made me reel, 
 
 That through my verses pant. 
 Give me thy lips, and let me feel 
 
 That they forgiveness grant. 
 
 43 
 
THE ROSE 
 
 When to my lips this rose I pressed 
 
 Life with new beauty seemed to glow. 
 A love that slumbered in my breast, 
 When to my lips this rose I pressed, 
 Leaped back to life, and I confessed 
 The pledge I gave thee long ago. 
 When to my lips this rose I pressed 
 Life with new beauty seemed to glow. 
 
 When first our fervid troth was told 
 
 I gave it to thee with a vow. 
 Shall I forget that night of old, 
 When first our fervid troth was told. 
 And when I swore that it should hold 
 Me true to thee ? It holds me now. 
 When first our fervid troth was told 
 I gave it to thee with a vow. 
 44 
 
THE ROSE 
 
 And now it comes in after years, 
 Its scent and color gone with age, 
 
 Wet with Faith*s timid, trustful tears. 
 
 And now it comes in after years. 
 
 And cries aloud to love that hears 
 And hastens to redeem the gage. 
 
 And now it comes in after years. 
 Its scent and color gone with age. 
 
 And back to where I met thee first 
 
 This faded flower my memory bears ; 
 All doubts of thee it hath dispersed. 
 And back to where I met thee first 
 I speed with every sense athirst, — 
 
 My soul the sacred summons hears, 
 And back to where I met thee first 
 This faded flower my memory bears. 
 
 45 
 
THE ROSE 
 
 I see the love-light in thine eyes, 
 
 I listen to thy murmurs low, 
 I drink the rapture of thy sighs ; 
 I see the love-light in thine eyes. 
 And oh ! I see the tears that rise. 
 
 And curse the fate that made them flow. 
 I see the love-light in thine eyes. 
 
 And listen to thy murmurs low. 
 
 The lips I loved may now be pale. 
 But what is that, dear one, to me ? 
 
 Time's touch will make the fairest fail. 
 
 The lips I loved may now be pale. 
 
 But through the gloom I hear them wail. 
 And haste across the years to thee. 
 
 The lips I loved may now be pale. 
 But what is that, dear one, to me ? 
 
 46 
 
ABANDONED 
 
 Ah, breaking, anxious heart 
 
 And streaming eyes ! 
 Pale, quivering lips that part 
 
 With weary sighs ! 
 Cheeks once like summer dawn^ 
 
 Rosy and fair. 
 Where have the roses gone 
 
 That once were there? 
 
 The wrecking winds that sweep 
 
 Along the sea 
 Are likelier far to weep 
 
 Than he for thee ; 
 For when upon the shore 
 
 Their victims lie. 
 They rave and howl no more, 
 
 But seem to sigh. 
 47 
 
ABANDONED 
 
 But the soft, treacherous breeze 
 
 That lured and fanned 
 Thy bark o'er unknown seas 
 
 And far from land 
 Fled when the daylight died, 
 
 And left thee there, 
 A waif upon the tide 
 
 Of dark despair. 
 
 No wind to fill thy sail 
 
 With freshening breath; 
 To drift without avail 
 
 To silent death; 
 To gaze across the main 
 
 To Life's fair shore ; 
 To stretch thy hands in vain 
 
 For evermore. 
 
 48 
 
REPARATION 
 
 Dear one, hath the fate that flung thee to me, 
 fair and young, and timid and untried. 
 
 Brought thee back in after years to curse me for 
 the love I then to thee denied ? 
 
 Lo ! the maiden who in lovers first fervor gave 
 me all her young impassioned trust 
 
 From the ashes of the years arises, like a phoenix 
 soaring from the dust. 
 
 Comes she through the Past's pale mists to mock 
 me with the lips whose virgin sighs I 
 drained ? 
 
 Nay, her eyes have in them no reproaches, though 
 for me their saddest floods have rained. 
 49 
 
REPARATION 
 
 Can it be that thou. Imperious Beauty, schooled 
 and skilled in all the Lesbian lore. 
 
 Art the timid and untutored novice who my 
 truant troth did oft deplore, 
 
 When in morbid mood or thoughtless moment, 
 I, perchance, too carelessly would chide 
 
 Some sweet whispered undertone of passion, or 
 with skeptic coldness turn aside. 
 
 Blighting in the blossom all the beauty of the 
 flower of love that might have grown 
 
 Through the years with Faith's unfading fra- 
 grance, but with heedless hand away was 
 thrown ? 
 
 All that Fancy's fondest dreams can compass I 
 would give could I again behold 
 
 In thine eyes the nascent love-light beaming, as 
 I Ve often seen it there of old. 
 50 
 
REPARATION 
 
 Ah, but Fate is full of rich reprisals, and at last 
 
 I falter at thy feet, 
 For the years have hoarded up a vengeance, and 
 
 thy reparation is complete. 
 
 Ask the tremor that enthralled my pulses! It will 
 tell thee how with joy they played 
 
 When I clasped again thy glowing beauty and my 
 hungering lips on thine were laid. 
 
 And I heard thee murmur, " Take me ! take 
 me !" as I pleaded in thy close caress 
 
 That thy love might leap to life and crown me, 
 and in one soul-yielding sigh confess: 
 
 Then I felt thee thrill with peerless passion, more 
 than ever shook thy girlish frame. 
 
 And Love's smouldering coals again were kin- 
 dled, for my lips had fanned them to a 
 flame. 
 
 51 
 
THE DREAM 
 
 On thy white breast that mocks the snow 
 
 Once in a dreaming hour I leaned; 
 I felt thy placid pulses glow 
 
 As from thy melting mouth I gleaned 
 The rosy raptures that eclipse 
 
 The joys that waking wooers know. 
 And then I laid my fervid lips 
 
 On thy white breast that mocks the snow. 
 
 Oh, how thy heart responsive beat 
 
 With new-born passion's blinding bliss 
 That calmed the conscience that would cheat 
 
 And chide thee from that glowing kiss ! 
 O clinging limbs ! O yielding breast ! 
 
 O lips unlessoned, yet replete 
 With passion, yearning to be pressed! 
 
 Oh, how thy heart responsive beat! 
 
 52 
 
AFTERGLOW 
 
 Like the base Indian who threw a pearl 
 
 Richer than all his tribe away, then moaned 
 His folly when it could not be atoned. 
 
 So long ago in bhndness did I hurl 
 
 The treasure of thy love into the whirl 
 
 Of the wild waves of passion, and disowned 
 
 The heart thou gavest to me as a girl, 
 
 Where now 't were heaven to be again en- 
 throned. 
 
 But Fate that flouts at Faith and laughs at Love, 
 
 That made thee wing thy way above the vast 
 
 Wild waters where thy first fond hopes were 
 
 drowned. 
 
 Hath brought thee back, like to the fabled dove. 
 
 To linger for a little, if at last 
 
 To spread thy wings and nevermore be 
 
 found. 
 
 53 
 
STOLEN WATERS 
 
 I WONDER if the stolen waters, dear. 
 
 That seem so sweet their sweetness will retain ? 
 
 May never tear fall in them to profane 
 Or turn them into gall. As yet their clear 
 And low melodious murmurings we hear, 
 
 And never yet methinks was sweeter strain; 
 Lovers thirsting thieves are we who know no fear. 
 
 The while with languished lips the fount we 
 drain. 
 
 As well preach to the wanderer who sinks, 
 Smit by the sun, upon the desert waste. 
 Then wakes to find the cooling oasis, — 
 As well tell him the saving draught he drinks 
 Is stolen waters that he should not taste. 
 As bid me, dear one, to forego thy kiss. 
 
 54 
 
LOVE LAUGHING LOW 
 
 Love laughing low, unmindful of its fate, 
 
 And Sin that often sighs but sheds no tear. 
 
 Sin ! Nay, the myrtle wreath Love offers, dear. 
 Is better than the buds that desecrate 
 The bride's fair brow when priest begins to prate 
 
 The loveless links that gall from year to year. 
 
 How fast the feeble fetters disappear 
 When the lone heart leaps to its longed-for mate ! 
 
 What bond can bind the blood at rest to keep 
 Within a placid pool, and see one face 
 
 Glassed ever on its surface night and day. 
 
 When like a torrent it was wont to leap 
 
 And on in unrestricted freedom race 
 
 To clasp the waves that waited far away ? 
 LofCJ 
 
 55 
 
THE TWILIGHT HOUR 
 
 Some say the flesh when freed from every stain 
 And worn with fast, of carnal joys denied. 
 Can loose the soul and leave it free to glide 
 
 O'er countless leagues of land and miles of main, 
 
 And sweet communion with some far one gain. 
 These fond fanatics I may not deride. 
 
 Since, loaded heavy with love's fettering chain. 
 Through space I swiftly sweep and reach thy 
 side; 
 
 Or with the subtle skill and conjuring lore. 
 
 Learnt of thy lips, my senses have the power 
 
 To summon thee when day begins to fade. 
 
 'Tis twilight; ere the lights are lit, once more 
 
 Speed unto me 1 Yea, 'tis the very hour 
 
 When last these lonely lips on thine were 
 
 laid. 
 
 56 
 
 i 
 
THE TELLTALE MARKS 
 
 I DREAMT one night that I beheld thee dead ; 
 
 The Spoiler scarce had stolen thy breath away 
 
 When I bent over thy beloved clay 
 Speechless and tearless with a nameless dread. 
 Soon all thy pallid flesh from heel to head 
 
 Passion's empurpled lip-prints did display ; 
 
 Unnumbered ghosts of bygone loves were they. 
 Thy pale lips moved, and this is what they said : 
 
 Thou didst believe me true, but my false heart 
 Was traitor to thee, and I did conceal 
 
 My shame for many years, but now my art 
 Availeth not, — these telltale marks reveal 
 
 Each one a guilty love — No more ! I cried. 
 
 And woke to find thee sleeping at my side. 
 
 57 
 
THE CRIMSONED GIFT 
 
 If I thy naked spirit could behold, 
 As oft thy classic comeliness I Ve seen 
 Garbed only in its beauty, — and I ween 
 
 That Fate to few e'er gave a fairer mould, — 
 
 I wonder what the vision would unfold ! 
 
 Thy flesh, though fair, enshrines a soul whose 
 sheen 
 
 Is radiant too, and though by love controlled. 
 Love is forgiven, — remember Magdalene. 
 
 Or if thy heart within my hand were laid. 
 
 Brought bleeding to me from thy white, wan 
 
 breast. 
 
 And every ruddy drop were voluble 
 
 To answer me ; with faith and unafraid, 
 
 Fd kiss the crimsoned gift, though it confessed 
 
 That which in life it lacked the strength to 
 
 tell. 
 
 58 
 
LUST'S TIGER -TEETH 
 
 But till thy heart is mine and mine is thine, 
 
 All passion will be pale 'twixt thee and me. 
 
 Compare it now with what it then would be? 
 That were to liken water unto wine 1 
 Though thou art fair as she who from the brine 
 
 Of that enchanted Cytherean sea 
 In beauty rose, yet till our souls combine 
 
 Our passion-prompted vows are perjury. 
 
 The brute within the blood may ramp and rave, 
 
 Or fawn and fondle till the trembling tone 
 
 Of love's soft sigh is counterfeited well; 
 
 But 'tis the flesh that for the flesh doth crave — 
 
 Lust's tiger-teeth that tear us to the bone, 
 
 To leave us at the last in living hell. 
 
 59 
 
THE PUNCH -BOWL 
 
 Ye jovial wassailers who drink 
 To Hebe in this brimming bowl. 
 
 To-night her beauty makes ye blink. 
 
 Ye jovial wassailers who drink. 
 
 To-morrow, maybe, ye will think 
 
 That midnight mirth means morning dole, 
 
 Ye jovial wassailers who drink 
 To Hebe in this brimming bowl. 
 
 60 
 
TO MARIANA 
 
 Thou knowest well that these poor lays 
 
 Will be forgot in after days. 
 
 For me there waits no wreath of Fame, 
 No false ambition bids me claim 
 
 One leaf of Art's enduring bays. 
 
 And yet if haply Time should praise 
 What now Indifference lightly weighs, 
 Then with my lines I 'd link thy name. 
 Thou knowest well. 
 
 Far fairer work than this decays. 
 Or sinks into Oblivion's haze. 
 
 Yea, often doth the star-flashed flame 
 Of Genius glow on lips that frame 
 Lines that are lost. Fate oft betrays, 
 Thou knowest well. 
 6i 
 
PROMETHEUS. 
 
 Better to battle with these birds of pain, 
 
 As I have done through many a day and night, 
 Than let them wing their way into my brain 
 
 And with their pinions beat out Reason*s light; 
 
 For in the darkness of that hour I might 
 Shake from my soul the links in which I Ve lain 
 These many years; yea, better to remain 
 
 Bound to my rock and let these vultures bite 
 Each nerve to numbness. Better that the clay 
 
 Should wait for death on this hard, rocky bed, 
 Than that a madman's hand should send 
 the soul 
 Soiled with a suicidal stain to stray 
 
 Ever in outer darkness, for 't is said 
 Such hapless spirits never find a goal. 
 
 62 
 
THE VANISHED VINTAGE 
 
 When the hopes that we cherish, the dreams that 
 we dream, 
 
 And the joys that defraud us are dead; 
 When the Past only mocks us, and never a beam 
 
 From the close-curtained Future is shed; 
 When we falter and fall as we grope in the gloom, 
 
 And our feet with the thistles are torn. 
 When the cankers of Conscience begin to con- 
 sume. 
 
 Do we over our misery mourn? 
 
 Yea, we weep as we think of the vintage we 
 crushed 
 From the rich, ruddy grapes of the Past ; 
 And we dream in the dark of the faces that 
 flushed 
 With a beauty that mocked at the blast: 
 63 
 
THE VANISHED VINTAGE 
 
 Through the long lonely night and the desolate 
 day, 
 When our folly and fate we deplore, 
 Oft the ghosts of dead pleasures stalk by us and 
 say. 
 If you could you would do as before. 
 
 64 
 
A WITHERED SHEAF 
 
 Poor anguished heart and soul, in sadness dressed, 
 Reaping with Sorrow's sickle happier years. 
 
 Thy grief-gleaned memories are at the best 
 A withered sheaf — an aftermath of tears. 
 
 65 
 
Some Press Notices of 
 The Dead Calypso^ and Other Verses. 
 
 The work opens with a challenging call to that once 
 fascinating goddess, and in a metre almost as seductive as the 
 smiles of the siren it taunts. The book is full of good verse. 
 Mr. Robertson is a poet, and the West is the better for him. — 
 Chicago Record-Herald. 
 
 The melody of the verse is as notable as the w^armth of its 
 fancy. — ISlezu York Times. 
 
 The book has fire and grit in it. It has also much tenderness 
 and sadness. It runs the gamut from the most spiritual aspira- 
 tion to the rage of desire defeated in satiation. In the matter 
 of form all the verses are exquisitely done. In the matter of 
 feeling the intensity is poignant. Always the song has color to 
 it, has blood and bone and flesh woven through it. Mr. 
 Robertson is a lover of the sonnet, and his book contains a 
 dozen poems in that form that are of exquisite workmanship. — 
 St. Louis Mirror. 
 
 There are poems in this volume of noble range. Robertson 
 is certainly a purist, and has a thorough knowledge of the 
 technique of poetry. He is never guilty of a false quantity, nor 
 does he ever lower the tone from its original setting. His work 
 has received recognition in the East and in England, and there 
 is an increasing demand there for the work of this extraordinary 
 Californian poet. — San Francisco Evening Post. 
 
Mr. Robertson's lines reveal the faculty of making the old 
 mythology real. Like Keats, he fuses his thought into an 
 imaginative glow that makes the fables of Greece and Rome Hve 
 again for us of these prosaic days. Those who feel the sway of 
 his passion will recognize the hand of a master. — San Francisco 
 Chronicle. 
 
 His verses show the hand of a man of great literary attain- 
 ments; a man whose mentality has been cultivated to the highest 
 pitch, and yet whose soul is, and ever has been, the soul of a 
 born poet. In expression and form Mr. Robertson's verses are 
 in themselves perfect; yet this mechanical excellence, if we may 
 so express it, attracts no attention to itself. The Hnes run so 
 smoothly and the thoughts are so beautifully expressed, that it is 
 the intent of the poetry, and not its form, that makes the lasting 
 impression on the reader's mind. — San Francisco Call. 
 
 The personal note is dominant in Mr. Robertson's verse. 
 The beauty of the lines is most often that of the poHshed and 
 engraved gem, yet his thought moves freely and gives no hint of 
 fetters. — San Francisco Argonaut. 
 
 In this book there are verses that thrill the senses and stir the 
 blood and awake one's enthusiasm and cause one to read and 
 re-read. There are lines that impress one with their beauty as 
 a faultless piece of statuary would impress one, and there are 
 some that cut the air like the swing of a flaming scimitar. His 
 songs come to us in many strains, and through the sob of las- 
 civious music and the flow of forbidden wine there steals the 
 echo of the swelling choir and the impressive cadence of the 
 cathedral hymn chanted in a key that harmonizes with the "dim 
 religious lights." — San Francisco News Letter. 
 
 His lines oft glow in brilliant pictures. They unfold grand 
 scenes; tableau after tableau presents itself in brilliant, pulsating 
 coloring. This is particularly true of the poem ** The Dead 
 Calypso." There is a sonorous ring to this verse. The 
 
scenes painted in it are the work of a master of the English 
 language. Not a word that does not express full meaning; 
 not a word that could be improved by a substitute, and for 
 this, apart from the poetic qualities of Mr. Robertson's writings, 
 admiration is his just due. — San Francisco Bulletin. 
 
 Last night before retiring, I read again, for the third or 
 fourth time, that powerful poem ** Ataxia.'* What imagination! 
 What realism! It stirred every fibre of my nature, awakened 
 every quality and every faculty, and mixed all night with all my 
 thoughts and fancies. If a piece of self-revelation, it is awful; 
 any way, it is a super-Byronic production — creation. — Addi- 
 son P. Russell, Author of ** A Club of One.'' 
 
 THE DEAD CALYPSO 
 
 AND OTHER VERSES 
 
 BY 
 LOUIS A. ROBERTSON 
 
 Price $1.50, net 
 
 A. M. Robertson, Publisher, San Francisco 
 
1902