Robert Fuller Murray

Robert Fuller Murray Poems

  • 101.  
    My Lady of all ladies! Queen by right
    Of tender beauty; full of gentle moods; With eyes that look divine beatitudes,
  • 102.  
    The city once again doth wear
    Her wonted dress of winter's bride, Her mantle woven of misty air,
  • 103.  
    Beloved Peeler! friend and guide
    And guard of many a midnight reeler, None worthier, though the world is wide,
  • 104.  
    There is a village in a southern land,
    By rounded hills closed in on every hand. The streets slope steeply to the market-square,
  • 105.  
    It seems a little word to say -
    FAREWELL--but may it not, when said, Be like the kiss we give the dead,
  • 106.  
    On Her Marriage
    As those who hear a sweet bird sing,
  • 107.  
    When I was young and well and glad,
    I used to play at being sad; Now youth and health are fled away,
  • 108.  
    from the unpublished remains of Edgar Allan Poe
    It was many and many a year ago,
  • 109.  
    Fickle Summer's fled away,
    Shall we see her face again? Hearken to the weeping rain,
  • 110.  
    These verses have I pilfered like a bee
    Out of a letter from my C. C. C. In London, showing what befell him there,
  • 111.  
    For thee the birds shall never sing again,
    Nor fresh green leaves come out upon the tree, The brook shall no more murmur the refrain
  • 112.  
    The Session's over. We must say farewell
    To these east winds and to this eastern sea, For summer comes, with swallow and with bee,
  • 113.  
    with apologies to Lord Tennyson
    O swallow-tailed purveyor of college sprees,
  • 114.  
    How many the troubles that wait
    On mortals!â??especially those Who endeavour in eloquent prose
  • 115.  
    Oh for the nights when we used to sit
    In the firelight's glow or flicker, With the gas turned low and our pipes all lit,
  • 116.  
    The rain had fallen, the Poet arose,
    He passed through the doorway into the street, A strong wind lifted his hat from his head,
  • 117.  
    Years grow and gather--each a gem
    Lustrous with laughter and with tears, And cunning Time a crown of years
  • 118.  
    `In the shadow of Thy wings, O Lord of Hosts, whom I extol,
    I will put my trust for ever,' so the kingly David sings. `Thou shalt help me, Thou shalt save me, only
  • 119.  
    Oh, where's the use of having gifts that can't be turned to money?
    And where's the use of singing, when there's no one wants to hear? It may be one or two will say your songs are sweet as honey,
  • 120.  
    My soul is like a prisoned lark,
    That sings and dreams of liberty, The nights are long, the days are dark,
  • 121.  
    Not the proudest damsel here
    Looks so well as doth my dear. All the borrowed light of dress
  • 122.  
    The mist hangs round the College tower,
    The ghostly street Is silent at this midnight hour,
  • 123.  
    Short space shall be hereafter
    Ere April brings the hour Of weeping and of laughter,
  • 124.  
    Brown was my friend, and faithfulâ??but so fat!
    He came to see me in the twilight dim; I rose politely and invited him
  • 125.  
    on returning to St. Andrews
    In the hard familiar horse-box I am sitting once again;
  • 126.  
    I loved a little maiden
    In the golden years gone by; She lived in a mill, as they all do
  • 127.  
    Last Sunday night I read the saddening story
    Of the unanswered love of fair Elaine, The `faith unfaithful' and the joyless glory
  • 128.  
    You like the trifling triolet:
    Well, here are three or four. Unless your likings I forget,
  • 129.  
    I had a plant which would not thrive,
    Although I watered it with care, I could not save the blossoms fair,
Total 129 poems written by Robert Fuller Murray

Poem of the day

The Dome Of Sunday
 by Karl Shapiro

With focus sharp as Flemish-painted face
In film of varnish brightly fixed
And through a polished hand-lens deeply seen,
Sunday at noon through hyaline thin air
Sees down the street,
And in the camera of my eye depicts
Row-houses and row-lives:
Glass after glass, door after door the same,

Read complete poem

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