Robert Fuller Murray

(1863 - 1894 / United States)

Robert Fuller Murray Poems

1. The Wasted Day 5/13/2015
2. For A Present Of Roses 1/3/2003
3. Moonlight North And South 1/3/2003
4. Make-Believes 1/3/2003
5. The Haunted Chamber 1/3/2003
6. Make-Believes 4/21/2010
7. The Banished Bejant 4/21/2010
8. The Best Pipe 4/21/2010
9. Reflections Of A Magistrand 4/21/2010
10. Indolence 1/3/2003
11. The Fiddler 1/3/2003
12. Song From ‘the Princess’ 4/21/2010
13. The Close Of The Session 4/21/2010
14. Music For The Dying 4/21/2010
15. The Burial Of William - The Conqueror 1/3/2003
16. Song Is Not Dead 1/3/2003
17. Poets 1/3/2003
18. Love's Worship Restored 1/3/2003
19. In Time Of Sorrow 1/3/2003
20. Requiem 1/3/2003
21. The Caged Thrush 1/3/2003
22. On A Crushed Hat 4/21/2010
23. Milton 4/21/2010
24. Sweetheart 4/21/2010
25. The End Of April 4/21/2010
26. My Lady 1/3/2003
27. Dawn Song 1/3/2003
28. In Time Of Doubt 1/3/2003
29. Lost At Sea 4/21/2010
30. Pleasant Prophecies 4/21/2010
31. Where's The Use? 1/3/2003
32. Partnership In Fame 1/3/2003
33. Stanzas For Music 4/21/2010
34. Imitated From Wordsworth 1/3/2003
35. An Orator’s Complaint 4/21/2010
36. Midnight 1/3/2003
37. An Interview 1/3/2003
38. Sleep Flies Me 1/3/2003
39. Tears 1/3/2003
40. The First Meeting 1/3/2003

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Best Poem of Robert Fuller Murray

A December Day

Blue, blue is the sea to-day,
Warmly the light
Sleeps on St. Andrews Bay --
Blue, fringed with white.

That's no December sky!
Surely 'tis June
Holds now her state on high,
Queen of the noon.

Only the tree-tops bare
Crowning the hill,
Clear-cut in perfect air,
Warn us that still

Winter, the aged chief,
Mighty in power,
Exiles the tender leaf,
Exiles the flower.

Is there a heart to-day,
A heart that grieves
For flowers that fade away,
For fallen leaves?

Oh, not in leaves or flowers
Endures the...

Read the full of A December Day

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.

Because you are a princess, a princess of the land,
You will not turn your lightsome eyes a moment where I stand,
A poor unnoticed poet, a-making of his rhymes;
But I have found a mistress, more fair a thousand times.

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