r. f. murray-第14章

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The　thirsty　spirit；　that　it　thirst　no　more？　Still　all　my　life　is　thirsting　to　the　core。　Thou　canst　not　satisfy；　if　this　be　Thou。　And　yet　I　dream；　or　I　remember　how；　Before　I　came　here；　while　I　tarried　yet　Among　the　friends　they　tell　me　to　forget；　I　never　seemed　to　seek　Thee；　but　I　found　Thou　wert　in　all　the　loveliness　around；　And　most　of　all　in　hearts　that　loved　me　well。

‘And　then　I　came　to　seek　Thee　in　this　cell；　To　crucify　my　worldliness　and　pride；　To　lay　my　heart's　affections　all　aside；　As　carnal　hindrances　which　held　my　soul　From　hasting　unencumbered　to　her　goal。　And　all　this　have　I　done；　or　else　have　striven　To　do；　obeying　the　behest　of　Heaven；　And　my　reward　is　bitterness。　　I　seem　To　wander　always　in　a　feverish　dream　On　plains　where　there　is　only　sun　and　sand；　No　rock　or　tree　in　all　the　weary　land；　My　thirst　unquenchable；　my　heart　burnt　dry。　And　still　in　my　parched　throat　I　faintly　cry；　Deliver　me；　O　Lord：　　bow　down　Thine　ear！

‘He　will　not　answer　me。　　He　does　not　hear。　I　am　alone　within　the　universe。　Oh　for　a　strength　of　will　to　rise　and　curse　God；　and　defy　Him　here　to　strike　me　dead！　But　my　heart　fails　me；　and　I　bow　my　head；　And　cry　to　Him　for　mercy；　still　in　vain。　Oh　for　some　sudden　agony　of　pain；　To　make　such　insurrection　in　my　soul　That　I　might　burst　all　bondage　of　control；　Be　for　one　moment　as　the　beasts　that　die；　And　pour　my　life　in　one　blaspheming　cry！'

The　morning　came；　and　all　the　convent　towers　Were　gilt　with　glory　by　the　golden　hours。　But　where　was　Ursula？　　The　sisters　came　With　quiet　footsteps；　calling　her　by　name；　But　there　was　none　that　answered。　　In　her　cell；　The　glad；　illuminating　sunshine　fell　On　form　and　face；　and　showed　that　she　was　dead。　‘May　Christ　receive　her　soul！'　the　sisters　said；　And　spoke　in　whispers　of　her　holy　life；　And　how　God's　mercy　spared　her　pain　and　strife；　And　gave　this　quiet　death。　　The　face　was　still；　Like　a　tired　child's；　that　lies　and　sleeps　its　fill。



UNDESIRED　REVENGE



Sorrow　and　sin　have　worked　their　will　For　years　upon　your　sovereign　face；　And　yet　it　keeps　a　faded　trace　Of　its　unequalled　beauty　still；　As　ruined　sanctuaries　hold　A　crumbled　trace　of　perfect　mould　In　shrines　which　saints　no　longer　fill。

I　knew　you　in　your　splendid　morn；　Oh；　how　imperiously　sweet！　I　bowed　and　worshipped　at　your　feet；　And　you　received　my　love　with　scorn。　Now　I　scorn　you。　　It　is　a　change；　When　I　consider　it；　how　strange　That　you；　not　I；　should　be　forlorn。

Do　you　suppose　I　have　no　pain　To　see　you　play　this　sorry　part；　With　faded　face　and　broken　heart；　And　life　lived　utterly　in　vain？　Oh　would　to　God　that　you　once　more　Might　scorn　me　as　you　did　of　yore；　And　I　might　worship　you　again！



POETS



Children　of　earth　are　we；　Lovers　of　land　and　sea；　Of　hill；　of　brook；　of　tree；　Of　all　things　fair；　Of　all　things　dark　or　bright；　Born　of　the　day　and　night；　Red　rose　and　lily　white　And　dusky　hair。

Yet　not　alone　from　earth　Do　we　derive　our　birth。　What　were　our　singing　worth　Were　this　the　whole？　Somewhere　from　heaven　afar　Hath　dropped　a　fiery　star；　Which　makes　us　what　we　are；　Which　is　our　soul。



A　PRESENTIMENT



It　seems　a　little　word　to　say　…　FAREWELLbut　may　it　not；　when　said；　Be　like　the　kiss　we　give　the　dead；　Before　they　pass　the　doors　for　aye？

Who　knows　if；　on　some　after　day；　Your　lips　shall　utter　in　its　stead　A　welcome；　and　the　broken　thread　Be　joined　again；　the　selfsame　way？

The　word　is　said；　I　turn　to　go；　But　on　the　threshold　seem　to　hear　A　sound　as　of　a　passing　bell；　Tolling　monotonous　and　slow；　Which　strikes　despair　upon　my　ear；　And　says　it　is　a　last　farewell。



A　BIRTHDAY　GIFT



No　gift　I　bring　but　worship；　and　the　love　Which　all　must　bear　to　lovely　souls　and　pure；

Those　lights；　that；　when　all　else　is　dark；　endure；　Stars　in　the　night；　to　lift　our　eyes　above；

To　lift　our　eyes　and　hearts；　and　make　us　move　Less　doubtful；　though　our　journey　be　obscure；　Less　fearful　of　its　ending；　being　sure　That　they　watch　over　us；　where'er　we　rove。

And　though　my　gift　itself　have　little　worth；　Yet　worth　it　gains　from　her　to　whom　‘tis　given；　As　a　weak　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