Angus Cameron Robertson
Angus Cameron Robertson Poems
I have sailed in old tea-clippers,
Full rigged clippers, lofty, trim;
Bounding o'er the laughing waters
With the wind abaft the beam,
...
Hail! Hail! to Lochiel; and to Lovat, all hail!
Brave Chiefs of the mountains who muster the Gael;
We thrill with delight at the tidings we hear,
...
My mind goes back to the good old days,
When I looked on steam with scorn,
To the stormy days and heavy gales
We encountered off Cape Horn;
...
Wild-frouded clouds fly 'neath a frowning heaven,
By roaring tempest toss'd and swiftly riven:
The lightning plays in awful blinding flashes:
...
The sea, is right enough, I say,
When squalls blow o'er and things are still,
Wind, wind enough the sails to fill,
And we glide o'er a summer sea.
...
After a long voyage
He danced and leapt for very joy,
Like some wild urchin with a toy
Dismissed from school, to romp and play,
...
Long the sun hath gone to rest,
Dimmed is now the deepening west,
And the sky hath lost the hue
That the rich clouds o'er it threw.
...
Our way lay thro' a wooded wild,
Where we picked up a straying child,
Who 'scaped the perils of the deep
...
I love the sea when Neptune frowns,
And when a mighty gale sweeps down,
Lashing the waves to mountains high,
While leeward with a plaintive cry,
...
The Best Poem Of Angus Cameron Robertson
The Old Tea-Clipper Days
I have sailed in old tea-clippers,
Full rigged clippers, lofty, trim;
Bounding o'er the laughing waters
With the wind abaft the beam,
And her lovely, snowy-white wings-
All a-pulling in the gale:
Now behold, she rolls to leeward,
Now she dips her weather rail.
I can see her slanting wet decks,
Green with slime amidships too:
I can hear old Bill, the bos'un
Cursing at our bully crew:
I can see each hairy visage
Laughing in the briny spray
Swinging on the topsail halliards,
Singing chanties wild and gay.
Oh! the rushing of the waters
As we haul and pull with glee,
Lashing, driving in our faces,
Filling seaboots to the knee,
With our soul and body lashings
Hauled full taut around the waist,
While the bos'un curse like thunder,
'Damn your eyes! Belay! Make Haste!'
We have split the hardy pantiles
With our sheath-knives thro' and thro;
And took out the crawling maggots
Ere we hashed them for the crew,
We have felt the pangs of hunger
As we made some cracker hash -
'Dandy-funk' and 'Spotted Harry,'
Mixed with sugar brown, a dash.
We have tacked and ran before it,
In the roaring forties - well -
We have wallow'd in the Tropics
Where the sun's as hot as Hell!
In a stark and stinking blizzard,
We have weathered old Cape Horn;
And we passed the 'Flying Dutchman'
With his topsails rent and torn.
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4/24/2024 6:14:08 PM # 1.0.0.1119
