Robert F. Murray: His Poems with a Memoir Part 5

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 pa.s.sed 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 sh.o.r.e, 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 pa.s.sed away, Sing welcome to the summer day.

CAIRNSMILL DEN--TUNE: '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 night--it 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.