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A collection of poetry by Scottish writer Robert Louis Stevenson.

Page 413 of 454
Table of Contents

All Influences Were in Vain

Since then, the waves are still. The tide Sets steadily and strongly out. The sea shines tranquil, far and wide, My mind is past the surf of doubt.

The pole-star of my purpose keeps The constant line that I should steer. At night my weary body sleeps, My brain works orderly and clear.

All things are altered since I set The steady goal before my face; All things are changed; and my regret Is advertising for a place!

“Companion for an invalide⁠— The René-sort preferred⁠—genteel And orthodox.” I wish it speed⁠— The creature kept so well to heel!

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