Robert Fuller Murray

(1863 - 1894 / United States)

Robert Fuller Murray Poems

41. The First Meeting 1/3/2003
42. The Voice That Sings 1/3/2003
43. Cairnsmill Den 1/3/2003
44. Ursula 1/3/2003
45. The Crown Of Years 1/3/2003
46. Below Her Window 1/3/2003
47. Hymn Of Hippolytus To Artemis 4/21/2010
48. To The Reader Of ‘university Notes’ 4/21/2010
49. Thirty Years After 4/21/2010
50. To Number 27x 4/21/2010
51. On An Edinburgh Advocate 4/21/2010
52. The Poet’s Hat 4/21/2010
53. The Life Of Earth 1/3/2003
54. Yet A Little Sleep 1/3/2003
55. Thou Art Queen 1/3/2003
56. The Waster Singing At Midnight 1/3/2003
57. The Solitary 1/3/2003
58. To J.R. 1/3/2003
59. To Alfred Tennyson - 1883 1/3/2003
60. Lost Liberty 1/3/2003
61. In Time Of Sickness 1/3/2003
62. The Tempted Soul 1/3/2003
63. Triolet 4/21/2010
64. The Garden Of Sin 1/3/2003
65. The True Liberal 1/3/2003
66. Ichabod 1/3/2003
67. Love Recalled In Sleep 1/3/2003
68. Andrew M’crie 4/21/2010
69. The Waster's Presentiment 1/3/2003
70. An Exile's Song 1/3/2003
71. An Invitation 1/3/2003
72. Sorrow's Treachery 1/3/2003
73. Golden Dream 1/3/2003
74. Art's Discipline 1/3/2003
75. Winter At St Andrews 1/3/2003
76. Patriotism 1/3/2003
77. Magni Nominnus Umbra 4/21/2010
78. The House Of Sleep 1/3/2003
79. Youth Renewed 1/3/2003
80. At A High Ceremony 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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