Robert Fuller Murray
Robert Fuller Murray Poems
|121.||A Song Of Truce||1/3/2003|
|122.||A Wasted Day||1/3/2003|
|123.||A New Song To An Old Tune - From Victor Hugo||1/3/2003|
|124.||A Birthday Gift||1/3/2003|
|125.||A May-Day Madrigal||1/3/2003|
|126.||A Lost Opportunity||1/3/2003|
|127.||The Golf Ball And The Loan||1/3/2003|
|128.||A Lover's Confession||1/3/2003|
|129.||A Late Good Night||1/3/2003|
|130.||A Criticism Of Critics||1/3/2003|
|131.||A Summer Morning||1/3/2003|
|132.||A December Day||1/3/2003|
Comments about 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
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
One page described a night in open air
He spent last summer in Trafalgar Square,
With men and women who by want are driven
Thither for lodging, when the nights are fair.