r. f. murray-第8部分
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I was a stranger in that company； A Galilean whom his speech bewrayed； And when they lifted up their songs of glee； My voice sad discord made。
Peace for mine own self I could never find； And still my presence marred the general peace； And when I parted； leaving them behind； They felt； and I； release。
So will I follow now my spirit's bent； Not scorning those who walk the beaten track； Yet not despising mine own banishment； Nor often looking back。
Their way is best for them； but mine for me。 And there is comfort for my lonely heart； To think perhaps our journeys' ends may be Not very far apart。
TO ALFRED TENNYSON1883
Familiar with thy melody； We go debating of its power； As churls； who hear it hour by hour； Contemn the skylark's minstrelsy …
As shepherds on a Highland lea Think lightly of the heather flower Which makes the moorland's purple dower； As far away as eye can see。
Let churl or shepherd change his sky； And labour in the city dark； Where there is neither air nor room … How often will the exile sigh To hear again the unwearied lark； And see the heather's lavish bloom！
ICHABOD
Gone is the glory from the hills； The autumn sunshine from the mere； Which mourns for the declining year In all her tributary rills。
A sense of change obscurely chills The misty twilight atmosphere； In which familiar things appear Like alien ghosts； foreboding ills。
The twilight hour a month ago Was full of pleasant warmth and ease； The pearl of all the twenty…four。 Erelong the winter gales shall blow； Erelong the winter frosts shall freeze … And oh； that it were June once more！
AT A HIGH CEREMONY
Not the proudest damsel here Looks so well as doth my dear。 All the borrowed light of dress Outshining not her loveliness；
A loveliness not born of art； But growing outwards from her heart； Illuminating all her face； And filling all her form with grace。
Said I； of dress the borrowed light Could rival not her beauty bright？ Yet； looking round； ‘tis truth to tell； No damsel here is dressed so well。
Only in them the dress one sees； Because more greatly it doth please Than any other charm that's theirs； Than all their manners； all their airs。
But dress in her； although indeed It perfect be； we do not heed； Because the face； the form； the air Are all so gentle and so rare。
THE WASTED DAY
Another day let slip！ Its hours have run； Its golden hours； with prodigal excess； All run to waste。 A day of life the less； Of many wasted days； alas； but one！
Through my west window streams the setting sun。 I kneel within my chamber； and confess My sin and sorrow； filled with vain distress； In place of honest joy for work well done。
At noon I passed some labourers in a field。 The sweat ran down upon each sunburnt face； Which shone like copper in the ardent glow。 And one looked up； with envy unconcealed； Beholding my cool cheeks and listless pace； Yet he was happier； though he did not know。
INDOLENCE
Fain would I shake thee off； but weak am I Thy strong solicitations to withstand。 Plenty of work lies ready to my hand； Which rests irresolute； and lets it lie。
How can I work； when that seductive sky Smiles through the window； beautiful and bland； And seems to half entreat and half command My presence out of doors beneath its eye？
Will not the air be fresh； the water blue； The smell of beanfields； blowing to the shore； Better than these poor drooping purchased flowers？ Good…bye； dull books！ Hot room； good…bye to you！ And think it strange if I return before The sea grows purple in the evening hours。
DAWN SONG
I hear a twittering of birds； And now they burst in song。 How sweet； although it wants the words！ It shall not want them long； For I will set some to the note Which bubbles from the thrush's throat。
O jewelled night； that reign'st on high； Where is thy crescent moon？ Thy stars have faded from the sky； The sun is coming soon。 The summer night is passed away； Sing welcome to the summer day。
CAIRNSMILL DENTUNE： ‘A ROVING'
As I； with hopeless love o'erthrown； With love o'erthrown； with love o'erthrown； And this is truth I tell； As I； with hopeless love o'erthrown； Was sadly walking all alone；
I met my love one morning In Cairnsmill Den。 One morning； one morning； One blue and blowy morning； I met my love one morning In Cairnsmill Den。
A dead bough broke within the wood Within the wood； within the wood； And this is truth I tell。 A dead bough broke within the wood； And I looked up； and there she stood。
I asked what was it brought her there； What brought her there； what brought her there； And this is truth I tell。 I asked what was it brought her there。 Says she； ‘To pull the primrose fair。'
Says I； ‘Come； let me pull with you； Along with you； along with you；' And this is truth I tell。 Says I； ‘Come let me pull with you； For one is not so good as two。'
But when at noon we climbed the hill； We climbed the hill； we climbed the hill； And this is truth I tell。 But when at noon we climbed the hill； Her hands and mine were empty still。
And when we reached the top so high； The top so high； the top so high； And this is truth I tell。 And when we reached the top so high Says I； ‘I'll kiss you； if I die！'
I kissed my love in Cairnsmill Den； In Cairnsmill Den； in Cairnsmill Den； And this is truth I tell。 I kissed my love in Cairnsmill Den； And my love kissed me back again。
I met my love one morning In Cairnsmill Den。 One morning； one morning； One blue and blowy morning； I met my love one morning In Cairnsmill Den。
A LOST OPPORTUNITY
One dark； dark nightit was long ago； The air was heavy and still and warm … It fell to me and a man I know； To see two girls to their father's farm。
There was little seeing； that I recall： We seemed to grope in a cave profound。 They might have come by a painful fall； Had we not helped them over the ground。
The girls were sisters。 Both were fair； But mine was the fairer （so I say）。 The dark soon severed us； pair from pair； And not long after we lost our way。
We wandered over the country…side； And we frightened most of the sheep about； And I do not think that we greatly tried； Having lost our way； to find it out。
The night being fine； it was not worth while。 We strayed through furrow and corn and grass We met with many a fence and stile； And a quickset hedge； which we failed to pass。
At last we came on a road she knew； She said we were near her father's place。 I heard the steps of the other two； And my heart stood still for a moment's space。
Then I pleaded； ‘Give me a good…night kiss。' I have learned； but I did not know in time； The fruits that hang on the tree of bliss Are not for cravens who will not climb。
We met all four by the farmyard gate； We parted laughing； with half a sigh； And home we went； at a quicker rate； A shorter journey； my friend and I。
When we reached the house； it was late enough； And many impertinent things were said； Of time and distance； and such dull stuff； But we said little； and went to bed。
We went to bed； but one at least Went not to sleep till the black turned grey； And the sun rose up； and the light increased； And the birds awoke to a summer day。
And sometimes now； when the nights are mild； And the moon is away； and no stars shine； I wander out； and I go half…wild； To think of the kiss which was not mine。
Let great minds laugh at a grief so small； Let small minds laugh at a fool so great。 Kind maidens； pity me； one and all。 Shy youths； take warning by this my fate。
THE CAGED THRUSH
Alas for the bird who was born to sing！ They have made him a cage； they have clipped his wing； They have shut him up in a dingy street； And they praise his singing and call it sweet。 But his heart and his song are saddened and filled With the woods； and the nest he never will build； And the wild young dawn coming into the tree； And the mate that never his mate will be。 And day by day； when his notes are heard They freshen the streetbut alas for the bird
MIDNIGHT
The air is dark and fragrant With memories of a shower； And sanctified with stillness By this most holy hour。
The leaves forget to whisper Of soft and secret things； And every bird is silent； With folded eyes and wings。
O blessed hour of midnight； Of sleep and of release； Thou yieldest to the toiler The wages of thy peace。
And I； who have not laboured； Nor borne the heat of noon； Receive thy tranquil quiet … An undeserved boon。
Yes； truly God is gracious； Who makes His sun to shine Upon the good and evil； And idle lives like mine。
Upon the just and unjust He sends His rain to fall； And gives this hour of blessing Freely alike to all。
WHERE'S THE USE
Oh； where's the use of having gifts that can't be turned to money？ And where's the use of singing； when there's no one wants to hear？ It may be one or two will say your songs are sweet as honey； But where's the use of honey； when the loaf of bread is dear？
A MAY…DAY MADRIGAL
The sun shines fair on Tweedside； the river flowing bright； Your heart is full of pleasure； your eyes are full of light； Your cheeks are like the morning； your pearls are like the dew； Or morning and her dew…drops are like your pearls and you。
Because you are a princess； a princess of the land； You will not turn your lightsome eyes a moment where I stand； A poor unnoticed poet； a…making of his rhymes； But I have found a mistress； more fair a thousand times。
‘Tis May； the elfish maiden； the daughter of the Spring； Upon whose birthday morning the birds delight to sing。 They would not sing one note for you； if you should so command； Although you are a princess； a princess of the land。
SONG IS NOT DEAD
Song is not dead； although to…day Men tell us everything is said。 There yet is something left to say； Song is not dead。
While still the evening sky is red； While still the morning gold and grey； While still the autumn leaves are shed；
While still the heart of youth is gay； And honour crowns the hoary head； While men and women love and pray Song is not dead。
A SONG OF TRUCE
Till the tread of marching feet Through the quiet grass…grown street Of the little town shall come； Soldier； re
