r. f. murray-his poems with a memoir-第14节
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They held me captive for a while。
Ah； then I listened for your voice！
Like music every word did fall；
Making the hearts of men rejoice；
And mine rejoiced the most of all。
At sight of you； my soul took flame。
But now； alas！ the spell is fled。
Is it that you are not the same；
Or only that my love is dead？
I know notbut last night I dreamed
That you were walking by my side；
And sweet； as once you were； you seemed；
And all my heart was glorified。
Your head against my shoulder lay；
And round your waist my arm was pressed；
And as we walked a well…known way；
Love was between us both confessed。
But when with dawn I woke from sleep；
And slow came back the unlovely truth；
I wept； as an old man might weep
For the lost paradise of youth。
FOOTSTEPS IN THE STREET
Oh； will the footsteps never be done？
The insolent feet
Thronging the street；
Forsaken now of the only one。
The only one out of all the throng；
Whose footfall I knew；
And could tell it so true；
That I leapt to see as she passed along；
As she passed along with her beautiful face；
Which knew full well
Though it did not tell；
That I was there in the window…space。
Now my sense is never so clear。
It cheats my heart；
Making me start
A thousand times； when she is not near。
When she is not near； but so far away；
I could not come
To the place of her home；
Though I travelled and sought for a month and a day。
Do you wonder then if I wish the street
Were grown with grass；
And no foot might pass
Till she treads it again with her sacred feet？
FOR A PRESENT OF ROSES
Crimson and cream and white …
My room is a garden of roses！
Centre and left and right；
Three several splendid posies。
As the sender is； they are sweet；
These lovely gifts of your sending；
With the stifling summer heat
Their delicate fragrance blending。
What more can my heart desire？
Has it lost the power to be grateful？
Is it only a burnt…out fire；
Whose ashes are dull and hateful？
Yet still to itself it doth say；
‘I should have loved far better
To have found； coming in to…day；
The merest scrap of a letter。'
IN TIME OF SORROW
Despair is in the suns that shine；
And in the rains that fall；
This sad forsaken soul of mine
Is weary of them all。
They fall and shine on alien streets
From those I love and know。
I cannot hear amid the heats
The North Sea's freshening flow
The people hurry up and down；
Like ghosts that cannot lie；
And wandering through the phantom town
The weariest ghost am I。
A NEW SONG TO AN OLD TUNEFROM VICTOR HUGO
If a pleasant lawn there grow
By the showers caressed；
Where in all the seasons blow
Flowers gaily dressed；
Where by handfuls one may win
Lilies； woodbine； jessamine；
I will make a path therein
For thy feet to rest。
If there live in honour's sway
An all…loving breast
Whose devotion cannot stray；
Never gloom…oppressed …
If this noble breast still wake
For a worthy motive's sake；
There a pillow I will make
For thy head to rest。
If there be a dream of love；
Dream that God has blest；
Yielding daily treasure…trove
Of delightful zest；
With the scent of roses filled；
With the soul's communion thrilled；
There； oh！ there a nest I'll build
For thy heart to rest。
THE FIDDLER
There's a fiddler in the street；
And the children all are dancing：
Two dozen lightsome feet
Springing and prancing。
Pleasure he gives to you；
Dance then； and spare not！
For the poor fiddler's due；
Know not and care not。
While you are prancing；
Let the fiddler play。
When you're tired of dancing
He may go away。
THE FIRST MEETING
Last night for the first time； O Heart's Delight；
I held your hand a moment in my own；
The dearest moment which my soul has known；
Since I beheld and loved you at first sight。
I left you； and I wandered in the night；
Under the rain； beside the ocean's moan。
All was black dark； but in the north alone
There was a glimmer of the Northern Light。
My heart was singing like a happy bird；
Glad of the present； and from forethought free；
Save for one note amid its music heard：
God grant； whatever end of this may be；
That when the tale is told； the final word
May be of peace and benison to thee。
A CRITICISM OF CRITICS
How often have the critics； trained
To look upon the sky
Through telescopes securely chained；
Forgot the naked eye。
Within the compass of their glass
Each smallest star they knew；
And not a meteor could pass
But they were looking through。
When a new planet shed its rays
Beyond their field of vision；
And simple folk ran out to gaze；
They laughed in high derision。
They railed upon the senseless throng
Who cheered the brave new light。
And yet the learned men were wrong；
The simple folk were right。
MY LADY
My Lady of all ladies！ Queen by right
Of tender beauty； full of gentle moods；
With eyes that look divine beatitudes；
Large eyes illumined with her spirit's light；
Lips that are lovely both by sound and sight；
Breathing such music as the dove； which broods
Within the dark and silence of the woods；
Croons to the mate that is her heart's delight。
Where is a line； in cloud or wave or hill；
To match the curve which rounds her soft…flushed cheek？
A colour； in the sky of morn or of even；
To match that flush？ Ah； let me now be still！
If of her spirit I should strive to speak；
I should come short； as earth comes short of heaven。
PARTNERSHIP IN FAME
Love； when the present is become the past；
And dust has covered all that now is new；
When many a fame has faded out of view；
And many a later fame is fading fast …
If then these songs of mine might hope to last；
Which sing most sweetly when they sing of you；
Though queen and empress wore oblivion's hue；
Your loveliness would not be overcast。
Now； while the present stays with you and me；
In love's copartnery our hearts combine；
Life's loss and gain in equal shares to take。
Partners in fame our memories then would be：
Your name remembered for my songs； and mine
Still unforgotten for your sweetness' sake。
A CHRISTMAS FANCY
Early on Christmas Day；
Love； as awake I lay；
And heard the Christmas bells ring sweet and clearly；
My heart stole through the gloom
Into your silent room；
And whispered to your heart； ‘I love you dearly。'
There； in the dark profound；
Your heart was sleeping sound；
And dreaming some fair dream of summer weather。
At my heart's word it woke；
And； ere the morning broke；
They sang a Christmas carol both together。
Glory to God on high！
Stars of the morning sky；
Sing as ye sang upon the first creation；
When all the Sons of God
Shouted for joy abroad；
And earth was laid upon a sure foundation。
Glory to God again！
Peace and goodwill to men；
And kindly feeling all the wide world over；
Where friends with joy and mirth
Meet round the Christmas hearth；
Or dreams of home the solitary rover。
Glory to God！ True hearts；
Lo； now the dark departs；
And morning on the snow…clad hills grows grey。
Oh； may love's dawning light
Kindled from loveless night；
Shine more and more unto the perfect day！
THE BURIAL OF WILLIAMTHE CONQUEROR
Oh； who may this dead warrior be
That to his grave they bring？
‘Tis William； Duke of Normandy；
The conqueror and king。
Across the sea； with fire and sword；
The English crown he won；
The lawless Scots they owned him lord；
But now his rule is done。
A king should die from length of years；
A conqueror in the field；
A king amid his people's tears；
A conqueror on his shield。
But he； who ruled by sword and flame；
Who swore to ravage France；
Like some poor serf without a name；
Has died by mere mischance。
To Caen now he comes to sleep；
The minster bells they toll；
A solemn sound it is and deep；
May God receive his soul！
With priests that chant a wailing hymn；
He slowly comes this way；
To where the painted windows dim
The lively light of day。
He enters in。 The townsfolk stand
In reverent silence round；
To see the lord of all the land
Take house in narrow ground。
While； in the dwelling…place he seeks；
To lay him they prepare；
One Asselin FitzArthur speaks；
And bids the priests forbear。
‘The ground whereon this abbey stands
Is mine；' he cries； ‘by right。
‘Twas wrested from my father's hands
By lawlessness and might。
Duke William took the land away；
To build this minster high。
Bury the robber where ye may；
But here he shall not lie。'
The hol
