Robert Fuller Murray
Biography of Robert Fuller Murray
Robert Fuller Murray was born on December 26, 1863, in Roxbury, Massachusetts, to John and Emmeline Murray. In 1869, his parents separated, and John took his young son to Kelso, England, and then to York. Robert was educated at grammar schools first in Ilminster, and later in Crewkerne. Murray attended the University of St. Andrews, where he succeeded in the topic of English moreso than in classical Greek, and received a B.A. in 1881.
Due to a lack of other opportunities, Murray became a research assistant to Professor John M. D. Meiklejohn in 1886, and published poetry in several popular journals. He had a brief career in journalism in Edinburgh in mid 1889, and in 1890 returned to St. Andrews. By this time, Murray was dealing with consumption. In 1891, he paid a brief visit to Egypt, and saw publication of The Scarlet Gown. Not long after this, Murray's health continued to deteriorate, bring upon his death in 1894 in St. Andrews. His second volume of poems, Robert F. Murray: his Poems, was published later that year, through his friend Andrew Lang. In 1909, the St. Andrews Students Representative Council published a second edition of The Scarlet Gown.
This page is based on the copyrighted Wikipedia Robert Fuller Murray; it is used under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. You may redistribute it, verbatim or modified, providing that you comply with the terms of the CC-BY-SA.
Robert Fuller Murray Poems
A December Day
Blue, blue is the sea to-day, Warmly the light Sleeps on St. Andrews Bay -- Blue, fringed with white.
A Criticism Of Critics
How often have the critics, trained To look upon the sky Through telescopes securely chained, Forgot the naked eye.
A Late Good Night
My lamp is out, my task is done, And up the stair with lingering feet I climb. The staircase clock strikes one. Good night, my love! good night, my sweet!
A Summer Morning
Never was sun so bright before, No matin of the lark so sweet, No grass so green beneath my feet, Nor with such dewdrops jewelled o'er.
The Golf Ball And The Loan
[After Longfellow.] I drove a golf-ball into the air;
A Lover's Confession
When people tell me they have loved But once in youth, I wonder, are they always moved To speak the truth?
A Lost Opportunity
One dark, dark night--it was long ago, The air was heavy and still and warm - It fell to me and a man I know, To see two girls to their father's farm.
A May-Day Madrigal
The sun shines fair on Tweedside, the river flowing bright, Your heart is full of pleasure, your eyes are full of light, Your cheeks are like the morning, your pearls are like the dew, Or morning and her dew-drops are like your pearls and you.
A Birthday Gift
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; Stars in the night, to lift our eyes above;
A New Song To An Old Tune - From Victor ...
If a pleasant lawn there grow By the showers caressed, Where in all the seasons blow Flowers gaily dressed,
A Song Of Truce
Till the tread of marching feet Through the quiet grass-grown street Of the little town shall come, Soldier, rest awhile at home.
A Ballad Of The Town Water
It is the Police Commissioners, All on a winter's day; And they to prove the town water Have set themselves away.
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, And yield himself to Maitland on the Billy-ruffium.
Fickle Summer's fled away, Shall we see her face again? Hearken to the weeping rain, Never sunbeam greets the day.
Let me sleep. The day is past,
And the folded shadows keep
Weary mortals safe and fast.
Let me sleep.
I am all too tired to weep
For the sunlight of the Past
Sunk within the drowning deep.
Treasured vanities I cast
In an unregarded heap.
Time has given rest at last.
Let me sleep.