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

In Time Of Sickness

Lost Youth, come back again!
Laugh at weariness and pain.
Come not in dreams, but come in truth,
Lost Youth.

Sweetheart of long ago,
Why do you haunt me so?
Were you not glad to part,
Sweetheart?

Still Death, that draws so near,
Is it hope you bring, or fear?
Is it only ease of breath,
Still Death?

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