r. f. murray-his poems with a memoir-第10部分
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Yes； it will come； and change the sky anew
From star…besprinkled black to sunlit blue；
And bring sweet thoughts and innocent desires
To countless girls。 What will it bring to you？
A SUMMER MORNING
Never was sun so bright before；
No matin of the lark so sweet；
No grass so green beneath my feet；
Nor with such dewdrops jewelled o'er。
I stand with thee outside the door；
The air not yet is close with heat；
And far across the yellowing wheat
The waves are breaking on the shore。
A lovely day！ Yet many such；
Each like to each； this month have passed；
And none did so supremely shine。
One thing they lacked： the perfect touch
Of theeand thou art come at last；
And half this loveliness is thine。
WELCOME HOME
The fire burns bright
And the hearth is clean swept；
As she likes it kept；
And the lamp is alight。
She is coming to…night。
The wind's east of late。
When she comes； she'll be cold；
So the big chair is rolled
Close up to the grate；
And I listen and wait。
The shutters are fast；
And the red curtains hide
Every hint of outside。
But hark； how the blast
Whistled then as it passed！
Or was it the train？
How long shall I stand；
With my watch in my hand；
And listen in vain
For the wheels in the lane？
Hark！ A rumble I hear
（Will the wind not be still？）；
And it comes down the hill；
And it grows on the ear；
And now it is near。
Quick； a fresh log to burn！
Run and open the door；
Hold a lamp out before
To light up the turn；
And bring in the urn。
You are come； then； at last！
O my dear； is it you？
I can scarce think it true
I am holding you fast；
And sorrow is past。
AN INVITATION
Dear Ritchie； I am waiting for the signal word to fly；
And tell me that the visit which has suffered such belating
Is to be a thing of now； and no more of by…and…by。
Dear Ritchie； I am waiting。
The sea is at its bluest； and the Spring is new creating
The woods and dens we know of； and the fields rejoicing lie；
And the air is soft as summer； and the hedge…birds all are mating。
The Links are full of larks' nests； and the larks possess the sky；
Like a choir of happy spirits； melodiously debating；
All is ready for your coming； dear Ritchieyes； and I；
Dear Ritchie； I am waiting。
FICKLE SUMMER
Fickle Summer's fled away；
Shall we see her face again？
Hearken to the weeping rain；
Never sunbeam greets the day。
More inconstant than the May；
She cares nothing for our pain；
Nor will hear the birds complain
In their bowers that once were gay。
Summer； Summer； come once more；
Drive the shadows from the field；
All thy radiance round thee fling；
Be our lady as of yore；
Then the earth her fruits shall yield；
Then the morning stars shall sing。
SORROW'S TREACHERY
I made a truce last night with Sorrow；
The queen of tears； the foe of sleep；
To keep her tents until the morrow；
Nor send such dreams to make me weep。
Before the lusty day was springing；
Before the tired moon was set；
I dreamed I heard my dead love singing；
And when I woke my eyes were wet。
THE CROWN OF YEARS
Years grow and gathereach a gem
Lustrous with laughter and with tears；
And cunning Time a crown of years
Contrives for her who weareth them。
No chance can snatch this diadem；
It trembles not with hopes or fears；
It shines before the rose appears；
And when the leaves forsake her stem。
Time sets his jewels one by one。
Then wherefore mourn the wreaths that lie
In attic chambers of the past？
They withered ere the day was done。
This coronal will never die；
Nor shall you lose it at the last。
HOPE DEFERRED
When the weary night is fled；
And the morning sky is red；
Then my heart doth rise and say；
‘Surely she will come to…day。'
In the golden blaze of noon；
‘Surely she is coming soon。'
In the twilight； ‘Will she come？'
Then my heart with fear is dumb。
When the night wind in the trees
Plays its mournful melodies；
Then I know my trust is vain；
And she will not come again。
THE LIFE OF EARTH
The life of earth； how full of pain；
Which greets us on our day of birth；
Nor leaves us while we yet retain
The life of earth。
There is a shadow on our mirth；
Our sun is blotted out with rain；
And all our joys are little worth。
Yet oh； when life begins to wane；
And we must sail the doubtful firth；
How wild the longing to regain
The life of earth！
GOLDEN DREAM
Golden dream of summer morn；
By a well…remembered stream
In the land where I was born；
Golden dream！
Ripples； by the glancing beam
Lightly kissed in playful scorn；
Meadows moist with sunlit steam。
When I lift my eyelids worn
Like a fair mirage you seem；
In the winter dawn forlorn；
Golden dream！
TEARS
Mourn that which will not come again；
The joy； the strength of early years。
Bow down thy head； and let thy tears
Water the grave where hope lies slain。
For tears are like a summer rain；
To murmur in a mourner's ears；
To soften all the field of fears；
To moisten valleys parched with pain。
And though thy tears will not awake
What lies beneath of young or fair
And sleeps so sound it draws no breath；
Yet； watered thus； the sod may break
In flowers which sweeten all the air；
And fill with life the place of death。
THE HOUSE OF SLEEP
When we have laid aside our last endeavour；
And said farewell to one or two that weep；
And issued from the house of life for ever；
To find a lodging in the house of sleep …
With eyes fast shut； in sunless chambers lying；
With folded arms unmoved upon the breast；
Beyond the noise of sorrow and of crying；
Beyond the dread of dreaming； shall we rest？
Or shall there come at last desire of waking；
To walk again on hillsides that we know；
When sunrise through the cold white mist is breaking；
Or in the stillness of the after…glow？
Shall there be yearning for the sound of voices；
The sight of faces； and the touch of hands；
The will that works； the spirit that rejoices；
The heart that feels； the mind that understands？
Shall dreams and memories crowding from the distance；
Shall ghosts of old ambition or of mirth；
Create for us a shadow of existence；
A dim reflection of the life of earth？
And being dead； and powerless to recover
The substance of the show whereon we gaze；
Shall we be likened to the hapless lover；
Who broods upon the unreturning days？
Not so： for we have known how swift to perish
Is man's delight when youth and health take wing；
Until the winter leaves him nought to cherish
But recollections of a vanished spring。
Dream as we may； desire of life shall never
Disturb our slumbers in the house of sleep。
Yet oh； to think we may not greet for ever
The one or two that； when we leave them； weep！
THE OUTCAST'S FAREWELL
The sun is banished；
The daylight vanished；
No rosy traces
Are left behind。
Here in the meadow
I watch the shadow
Of forms and faces
Upon your blind。
Through swift transitions；
In new positions；
My eyes still follow
One shape most fair。
My heart delaying
Awhile； is playing
With pleasures hollow；
Which mock despair。
I feel so lonely；
I long once only
To pass an hour
With you； O sweet！
To touch your fingers；
Where fragrance lingers
From some rare flower；
And kiss your feet。
But not this even
To me is given。
Of all sad mortals
Most sad am I；
Never to meet you；
Never to greet you；
Nor pass your portals
Before I die。
All men scorn me；
Not one will mourn me；
When from their city
I pass away。
Will you to…morrow
Recall with sorrow
Him whom with pity
You saw to…day？
Outcast and lonely；
One thing only
Beyond misgiving
I hold for true；
That； had you known me；
You would have shown me
A life worth living …
A life for you。
Yes： five years younger
My manhood's hunger
Had you come filling
With plenty sweet；
My life so nourished；
Had grown and flourished；
Had God been willing
That we should meet。
How vain to fashion
From dreams and passion
The rich existence
Which might have been！
Can God's own power
Recall the hour；
Or bridge the distance
That lies between？
Before the morning；
From pain and scorning
I sail death's river
To sleep or hell。
To you is given
The life of heaven。
Farewell for ever；
Farewell； farewell！
YET A LITTLE SLEEP
Beside the drowsy streams that creep
Within this island of repose；
Oh； let us rest from cares and woes；
Oh； let us fold our hands to sleep！
Is it ignoble； then； to keep
Awhile from where the rough wind blows；
And all is strife； and no man knows
What end awaits him on the deep？
The voyager may rest awhile；
When rest invites； and yet may be
Neither a sluggard nor a craven。
With strength renewed he quits the isle；
And putting out again to sea；
Makes sail for his desired haven。
LOST LIBERTY
Of our own will we are not free；
When freedom lies within our power。
We wait for some decisive hour；
To rise and take our liberty。
Still we delay； content to be
Imprisoned in our own high tower。
What is it but a strong…built bower？
Ours are the warders； ours the key。
But we through indolence grow weak。
Our warders； fed with power so long；
Become at last our lords indeed。
We vainly threaten； vainly seek
To move their ruth。 The bars are strong。
We dash against them till we bleed。
AN AFTERTHOUGHT
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