Smoke from This Altar (1990) by Louis L'amour Page A

proving that he indeed had other talents.
    When we first began dating, Louis gave me a copy of Smoke From This Altar, and through it I began to learn a little about the man who would become my husband and the father of our children. Many of the poems are about what he saw and thought and felt while he was in China and the South Pacific; others are about places he visited that we went back to together. We drove out to Secret Pass, the subject of a poem in this book, just after we got married. If I remember correctly, it is on the old Hardyville stage road outside of Kingman, Arizona. "Biography In Stone" was written about an outcropping of rock that Louis thought looked slightly like a man; he had become fascinated by it when he was a young man working at the Katherine Mine in the same area. "Enchanted Mesa" was written sixty years ago about what he saw when he first came through the area just west of where we now have our ranch.
    Because he was having little luck with his other writing, Louis decided that he would collect the best of his poetry into a book. He hoped that publishing it would bring him some attention and prestige. A small Oklahoma City publishing company finally agreed to release Smoke From This Altar in 1939. Although not very many copies were sold, the book was well reviewed. Kenneth Kaufman, editor of the book page for the Daily Oklahoman, wrote, "What struck me first was his delight in and love for words; and what struck me next was his industry. He has that infinite capacity for taking pains, which Carlyle, I believe it was, gave as a definition of genius. And he has the ability to take punishment which only a trained fighter (which he is, along with all his other accomplishments) could stand. By which I mean to imply that he will be heard from in a big way one of these days. . . . For he has the three things which it takes to make a writer: a love for words, industry, and something to say."
    Because of Smoke From This Altar, Louis was able to move into a different phase as a writer. He began to receive requests to speak, read his poetry, and autograph. He had published his first book, and it served to move his career along. About the same time a few of his short stories sold and he was on his way as a writer of note.
    I've decided to add a few poems that weren't in the original Smoke From This Altar. Some are humorous, some light verse, and some serious and thoughtful. I hope you enjoy them.
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    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.
    Nothing has life more beautiful than ships Nothing with half their white-winged majesty, Nothing the fancy captures, roving free,
    Can equal cloud-crowned masts or prow that dips Into the waves . . . no sight can this eclipse . . . For here has man put wings across the sea, Harnessed the winds to labor, daringly,
    Challenged the gods with brine upon his lips.
    Give us this beauty that will conquer power,
    Give us this strength that will defy the fates . . The creak of wind-whipped rigging for an hour And splendor of the sails . . . this expiates; Give us this glory . . . we must not forget, That man is noble, too, in silhouette.
    *
    INTERLUDE: HONGKONG HARBOR
    The harbor lights are shining from the quay Like golden daggers in the heart of night; I stand below