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 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!
The Golf Ball And The Loan
[After Longfellow.] I drove a golf-ball into the air;
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.
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.
Vanity Of Vanities
Be ye happy, if ye may, In the years that pass away. Ye shall pass and be forgot, And your place shall know you not.
A Criticism Of Critics
How often have the critics, trained To look upon the sky Through telescopes securely chained, Forgot the naked eye.
The City Of Golf
Would you like to see a city given over, Soul and body, to a tyrannising game? If you would, there's little need to be a rover, For St. Andrews is the abject city's name.
Aien Aristeuein (Motto Of St. Andrews Un...
Ever to be the best. To lead In whatsoever things are true; Not stand among the halting crew The faint of heart, the feeble-kneed,
The Science Club
Hurrah for the Science Club! Join it, ye fourth year men; Join it, thou smooth-cheeked scrub, Whose years scarce number ten
These verses have I pilfered like a bee Out of a letter from my C. C. C. In London, showing what befell him there, With other things, of interest to me
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?
Gone is the glory from the hills, The autumn sunshine from the mere, Which mourns for the declining year In all her tributary rills.
Catullus At His Brother’s Grave
Through many lands and over many seas I come, my Brother, to thine obsequies, To pay thee the last honours that remain,
A Wasted Day
Another day let slip! Its hours have run, Its golden hours, with prodigal excess, All run to waste. A day of life the less; Of many wasted days, alas, but one!
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.