r. f. murray-his poems with a memoir-第9节
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As I often saw you do； when I watched you going by
On the stormy days to College； from my window up on high。
I wander on the Lade Braes； where I used to walk with you；
And purple are the woods of Mount Melville； budding new；
But I cannot bear to look； for the tears keep coming so；
And the Spring has lost the freshness which it had a year ago。
Yet often I could fancy； where the pathway takes a turn；
I shall see you in a moment； coming round beside the burn；
Coming round beside the burn； with your swinging step and free；
And your face lit up with pleasure at the sudden sight of me。
Beyond the Rock and Spindle； where we watched the water clear
In the happy April sunshine； with a happy sound to hear；
There I sat this afternoon； but no hand was holding mine；
And the water sounded eerie； though the April sun did shine。
Oh； why should I complain of what I know was bound to be？
For you had your way to make； and you must not think of me。
But a woman's heart is weak； and a woman's joys are few …
There are times when I could die for a moment's sight of you。
It may be you will come again； before my hair is grey
As the sea is in the twilight of a weary winter's day。
When success is grown a burden； and your heart would fain be free；
Come back to St。 AndrewsSt。 Andrews and me。
THE SOLITARY
I have been lonely all my days on earth；
Living a life within my secret soul；
With mine own springs of sorrow and of mirth；
Beyond the world's control。
Though sometimes with vain longing I have sought
To walk the paths where other mortals tread；
To wear the clothes for other mortals wrought；
And eat the selfsame bread …
Yet have I ever found； when thus I strove
To mould my life upon the common plan；
That I was furthest from all truth and love；
And least a living man。
Truth frowned upon my poor hypocrisy；
Life left my soul； and dwelt but in my sense；
No man could love me； for all men could see
The hollow vain pretence。
Their clothes sat on me with outlandish air；
Upon their easy road I tripped and fell；
And still I sickened of the wholesome fare
On which they nourished well。
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
