Robert Fuller Murray

Robert Fuller Murray Poems

  • 1.  
    Beyond the Cheviots and the Tweed,
    Beyond the Firth of Forth,My memory returns at speed
  • 2.  
    O Love, thine empire is not dead,
    Nor will we let thy worship go,Although thine early flush be fled,
  • 3.  
    Life is a house where many chambers be,
    And all the doors will yield to him who tries,Save one, whereof men say, behind it lies
  • 4.  
    The fire burns bright
    And the hearth is clean swept,As she likes it kept,
  • 5.  
    Despair is in the suns that shine,
    And in the rains that fall,This sad forsaken soul of mine
  • 6.  
    Long since I came into the school of Art,
    A child in works, but not a child in heart.Slowly I learn, by her instruction mild,
  • 7.  
    As through the street at eve we went
    (It might be half-past ten),We fell out, my friend and I,
  • 8.  
    [After Longfellow.]

  • 9.  
    This is the time when larks are singing loud
    And higher still ascending and more high,This is the time when many a fleecy cloud
  • 10.  
    St. Andrews! not for ever thine shall be
    Merely the shadow of a mighty name,The remnant only of an ancient fame
  • 11.  
    I shall be spun. There is a voice within
    Which tells me plainly I am all undone; For though I toil not, neither do I spin,
  • 12.  
    Another day let slip! Its hours have run,
    Its golden hours, with prodigal excess,All run to waste. A day of life the less;
  • 13.  
    The sun is banished,
    The daylight vanished,No rosy traces
  • 14.  
    No gift I bring but worship, and the love
    Which all must bear to lovely souls and pure,Those lights, that, when all else is dark, endure;
  • 15.  
    Crimson and cream and white -
    My room is a garden of roses!Centre and left and right,
  • 16.  
    Thou art queen to every eye,
    When the fairest maids convene.Envy's self can not deny
  • 17.  
    Lost Youth, come back again!
    Laugh at weariness and pain.Come not in dreams, but come in truth,
  • 18.  
    He brought a team from Inversnaid
    To play our Third Fifteen, A man whom none of us had played
  • 19.  
    So in the village inn the poet dwelt.
    His honey-dew was gone; only the pouch,His cousin's work, her empty labour, left.
  • 20.  
    When we have laid aside our last endeavour,
    And said farewell to one or two that weep,And issued from the house of life for ever,
  • 21.  
    I know the garden-close of sin,
    The cloying fruits, the noxious flowers,I long have roamed the walks and bowers,
  • 22.  
    Ever to be the best. To lead
    In whatsoever things are true; Not stand among the halting crew
  • 23.  
    Lost at sea, with all on board!
    No one saw their sinking sail,No one heard their dying wail,
  • 24.  
    I hear a twittering of birds,
    And now they burst in song.How sweet, although it wants the words!
  • 25.  
    After the melting of the snow
    Divines depart and April comes;Examinations nearer grow
  • 26.  
    Sweetheart, that thou art fair I know,
    More fair to meThan flowers that make the loveliest show
  • 27.  
    I made a truce last night with Sorrow,
    The queen of tears, the foe of sleep,To keep her tents until the morrow,
  • 28.  
    On the field of Waterloo we made Napoleon rue
    That ever out of Elba he decided for to come,For we finished him that day, and he had to run away,
  • 29.  
    Artemis! thou fairest
    Of the maids that beIn divine Olympus,
  • 30.  
    This morning, while we sat in talk
    Of spring and apple-bloom,Lo! Death stood in the garden walk,
  • 31.  
    A day of gladness yet will dawn,
    Though when I cannot say;Perhaps it may be Thursday week,
  • 32.  
    As I was walking down the street
    A week ago, Near Henderson's I chanced to meet
  • 33.  
    Children of earth are we,
    Lovers of land and sea,Of hill, of brook, of tree,
  • 34.  
    When the weary night is fled,
    And the morning sky is red,Then my heart doth rise and say,
  • 35.  
    The lady stood at the station bar,
    (Three currants in a bun)And oh she was proud, as ladies are.
  • 36.  
    Let me sleep. The day is past,
    And the folded shadows keepWeary mortals safe and fast.
  • 37.  
    The life of earth, how full of pain,
    Which greets us on our day of birth,Nor leaves us while we yet retain
  • 38.  
    From Jean Pierre Claris Florian

  • 39.  
    Golden dream of summer morn,
    By a well-remembered streamIn the land where I was born,
  • 40.  
    When one who has wandered out of the way
    Which leads to the hills of joy,Whose heart has grown both cold and grey,
  • 41.  
    Gone is the glory from the hills,
    The autumn sunshine from the mere,Which mourns for the declining year
  • 42.  
    Till the tread of marching feet
    Through the quiet grass-grown streetOf the little town shall come,
  • 43.  
    Through many lands and over many seas
    I come, my Brother, to thine obsequies,To pay thee the last honours that remain,
  • 44.  
    There's a fiddler in the street,
    And the children all are dancing:Two dozen lightsome feet
  • 45.  
    As I, with hopeless love o'erthrown,
    With love o'erthrown, with love o'erthrown,And this is truth I tell,
  • 46.  
    Never was sun so bright before,
    No matin of the lark so sweet,No grass so green beneath my feet,
  • 47.  
    Early on Christmas Day,
    Love, as awake I lay,And heard the Christmas bells ring sweet and clearly,
  • 48.  
    Two old St. Andrews men, after a separation of nearly thirty years, meet by chance at a wayside inn. They interchange experiences; and at length one of them, who is an admirer of Mr. Swinburne's Poems and Ballads, speaks as follows:

  • 49.  
    Weak soul, by sense still led astray,
    Why wilt thou parley with the foe?He seeks to work thine overthrow,
  • 50.  
    Mourn that which will not come again,
    The joy, the strength of early years.Bow down thy head, and let thy tears
Total 129 poems written by Robert Fuller Murray

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Sir Barnaby Bampton Boo
 by William Schwenck Gilbert

Last of a noble race,
BARNABY BAMPTON, coming to woo,
All at a deuce of a pace.
Here is a health to you:
Here is wishing you luck, you elderly buck -

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