Robert Fuller Murray

(1863 - 1894 / United States)

Robert Fuller Murray Poems

1. A Late Good Night 1/3/2003
2. A Criticism Of Critics 1/3/2003
3. A Summer Morning 1/3/2003
4. A Lover's Confession 1/3/2003
5. A Lost Opportunity 1/3/2003
6. The Golf Ball And The Loan 1/3/2003
7. A May-Day Madrigal 1/3/2003
8. A Birthday Gift 1/3/2003
9. A New Song To An Old Tune - From Victor Hugo 1/3/2003
10. A December Day 1/3/2003
11. A Song Of Truce 1/3/2003
12. A Ballad Of The Town Water 4/21/2010
13. After Waterloo 1/3/2003
14. Fickle Summer 1/3/2003
15. A Wasted Day 1/3/2003
16. A Presentiment 1/3/2003
17. A Tennyson Fragment 1/3/2003
18. A Coincidence 1/3/2003
19. A Christmas Fancy 1/3/2003
20. A Bunch Of Triolets 4/21/2010
21. A Criticism Of Critics 4/21/2010
22. A Swinburnian Interlude 4/21/2010
23. Adventure Of A Poet 1/3/2003
24. After Many Days 4/21/2010
25. Catullus At His Brother’s Grave 4/21/2010
26. A Street Corner 4/21/2010
27. Welcome Home 1/3/2003
28. The Delights Of Mathematics 1/3/2003
29. Hope Deferred 1/3/2003
30. A Ballad Of Refreshment 4/21/2010
31. A College Career 4/21/2010
32. Love's Phantom 1/3/2003
33. The City Of Golf 1/3/2003
34. Trafalgar Square 1/3/2003
35. Aien Aristeuein (Motto Of St. Andrews University) 1/3/2003
36. Vanity Of Vanities 1/3/2003
37. Death At The Window 1/3/2003
38. The Science Club 4/21/2010
39. Cyclamen 1/3/2003
40. For Scotland 1/3/2003
Best Poem of Robert Fuller Murray

A Late Good Night

My lamp is out, my task is done,
And up the stair with lingering feet
I climb. The staircase clock strikes one.
Good night, my love! good night, my sweet!

My solitary room I gain.
A single star makes incomplete
The blackness of the window pane.
Good night, my love! good night, my sweet!

Dim and more dim its sparkle grows,
And ere my head the pillows meet,
My lids are fain themselves to close.
Good night, my love! good night, my sweet!

My lips no other words can say,
But still they murmur and repeat
To you, who slumber far away,
Good ...

Read the full of A Late Good Night

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.

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