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第13节

r. f. murray-第13节

小说: r. f. murray 字数: 每页4000字

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k flower gets colour from the sun。 Or rather; as when angels walk the earth; All things they look on take the look of heaven … For of those blessed angels thou art one。



CYCLAMEN



I had a plant which would not thrive; Although I watered it with care; I could not save the blossoms fair; Nor even keep the leaves alive。

I strove till it was vain to strive。 I gave it light; I gave it air; I sought from skill and counsel rare The means to make it yet survive。

A lady sent it me; to prove She held my friendship in esteem; I would not have it as she said; I wanted it to be for love; And now not even friends we seem; And now the cyclamen is dead。



LOVE RECALLED IN SLEEP



There was a time when in your face There dwelt such power; and in your smile I know not what of magic grace; 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 holy brethren bid him cease; But he will not be stilled; And soon the house of God's own pe

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