Robert Fuller Murray

(1863 - 1894 / United States)

Robert Fuller Murray Poems

81. Youth Renewed 1/3/2003
82. The M.A. Degree 1/3/2003
83. One Tear 1/3/2003
84. Nightfall 1/3/2003
85. An Afterthought 1/3/2003
86. Footsteps In The Street 1/3/2003
87. Vivien’s Song 4/21/2010
88. Come Back To St Andrews 1/3/2003
89. The Swallows 4/21/2010
90. The Outcast's Farewell 1/3/2003
91. Farewell To A Singer 4/21/2010
92. To C.C.C. 4/21/2010
93. Cyclamen 1/3/2003
94. For Scotland 1/3/2003
95. The Science Club 4/21/2010
96. Death At The Window 1/3/2003
97. Aien Aristeuein (Motto Of St. Andrews University) 1/3/2003
98. Vanity Of Vanities 1/3/2003
99. Trafalgar Square 1/3/2003
100. A College Career 4/21/2010
101. The City Of Golf 1/3/2003
102. Love's Phantom 1/3/2003
103. A Ballad Of Refreshment 4/21/2010
104. The Delights Of Mathematics 1/3/2003
105. Hope Deferred 1/3/2003
106. Welcome Home 1/3/2003
107. A Street Corner 4/21/2010
108. After Many Days 4/21/2010
109. Catullus At His Brother’s Grave 4/21/2010
110. Adventure Of A Poet 1/3/2003
111. A Swinburnian Interlude 4/21/2010
112. A Criticism Of Critics 4/21/2010
113. A Bunch Of Triolets 4/21/2010
114. A Christmas Fancy 1/3/2003
115. A Tennyson Fragment 1/3/2003
116. A Coincidence 1/3/2003
117. A Presentiment 1/3/2003
118. A Wasted Day 1/3/2003
119. Fickle Summer 1/3/2003
120. After Waterloo 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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