r. f. murray-第9章

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All　round；　the　landscape　stretches　bare；　The　bleak　fields　lying　far　and　wide；　Monotonous；　with　here　and　there　A　lone　tree　on　a　lone　hillside。　No　more　the　land　is　glorified　With　golden　gleams　of　ripening　corn；　Scarce　is　a　cheerful　hue　descried　…　The　leaves　are　off　Queen　Mary's　Thorn。

For　me；　I　do　not　greatly　care　Though　leaves　be　dead；　and　mists　abide。　To　me　the　place　is　thrice　as　fair　In　winter　as　in　summer…tide：　With　kindlier　memories　allied　Of　pleasure　past　and　pain　o'erworn。　What　care　I；　though　the　earth　may　hide　The　leaves　from　off　Queen　Mary's　Thorn？

Thus　I　unto　my　friend　replied；　When；　on　a　chill　late　autumn　morn；　He　pointed　to　the　tree；　and　cried；　‘The　leaves　are　off　Queen　Mary's　Thorn！'



PATRIOTISM



There　was　a　time　when　it　was　counted　high　To　be　a　patriotwhether　by　the　zeal　Of　peaceful　labour　for　the　country's　weal；　Or　by　the　courage　in　her　cause　to　die：

FOR　KING　AND　COUNTRY　was　a　rallying　cry　That　turned　men's　hearts　to　fire；　their　nerves　to　steel；　Not　to　unheeding　ears　did　it　appeal；　A　pulpit　formula；　a　platform　lie。

Only　a　fool　will　wantonly　desire　That　war　should　come；　outpouring　blood　and　fire；　And　bringing　grief　and　hunger　in　her　train。　And　yet；　if　there　be　found　no　other　way；　God　send　us　war；　and　with　it　send　the　day　When　love　of　country　shall　be　real　again！



SLEEP　FLIES　ME



Sleep　flies　me　like　a　lover　Too　eagerly　pursued；　Or　like　a　bird　to　cover　Within　some　distant　wood；　Where　thickest　boughs　roof　over　Her　secret　solitude。

The　nets　I　spread　to　snare　her；　Although　with　cunning　wrought；　Have　only　served　to　scare　her；　And　now　she'll　not　be　caught。　To　those　who　best　could　spare　her；　She　ever　comes　unsought。

She　lights　upon　their　pillows；　She　gives　them　pleasant　dreams；　Grey…green　with　leaves　of　willows；　And　cool　with　sound　of　streams；　Or　big　with　tranquil　billows；　On　which　the　starlight　gleams。

No　vision　fair　entrances　My　weary　open　eye；　No　marvellous　romances　Make　night　go　swiftly　by；　But　only　feverish　fancies　Beset　me　where　I　lie。

The　black　midnight　is　steeping　The　hillside　and　the　lawn；　But　still　I　lie　unsleeping；　With　curtains　backward　drawn；　To　catch　the　earliest　peeping　Of　the　desired　dawn。

Perhaps；　when　day　is　breaking；　When　birds　their　song　begin；　And；　worn　with　all　night　waking；　I　call　their　music　din；　Sweet　sleep；　some　pity　taking；　At　last　may　enter　in。



LOVE'S　PHANTOM



Whene'er　I　try　to　read　a　book；　Across　the　page　your　face　will　look；　And　then　I　neither　know　nor　care　What　sense　the　printed　words　may　bear。

At　night　when　I　would　go　to　sleep；　Thinking　of　you；　awake　I　keep；　And　still　repeat　the　words　you　said；　Like　sick　men　murmuring　prayers　in　bed。

And　when；　with　weariness　oppressed；　I　sink　in　spite　of　you　to　rest；　Your　image；　like　a　lovely　sprite；　Haunts　me　in　dreams　through　half　the　night。

I　wake　upon　the　autumn　morn　To　find　the　sunrise　hardly　born；　And　in　the　sky　a　soft　pale　blue；　And　in　my　heart　your　image　true。

When　out　I　walk　to　take　the　air；　Your　image　is　for　ever　there；　Among　the　woods　that　lose　their　leaves；　Or　where　the　North　Sea　sadly　heaves。

By　what　enchantment　shall　be　laid　This　ghost；　which　does　not　make　afraid；　But　vexes　with　dim　loveliness　And　many　a　shadowy　caress？

There　is　no　other　way　I　know　But　unto　you　forthwith　to　go；　That　I　may　look　upon　the　maid　Whereof　that　other　is　the　shade。

As　the　strong　sun　puts　out　the　moon；　Whose　borrowed　rays　are　all　his　own；　So；　in　your　living　presence；　dies　The　phantom　kindled　at　your　eyes。

By　this　most　blessed　spell；　each　day　The　vexing　ghost　awhile　I　lay。　Yet　am　I　glad　to　know　that　when　I　leave　you　it　will　rise　again。



COME　BACK　TO　ST。　ANDREWS



Come　back　to　St。　Andrews！　　Before　you　went　away　You　said　you　would　be　wretched　where　you　could　not　see　the　Bay；　The　East　sands　and　the　West　sands　and　the　castle　in　the　sea　Come　back　to　St。　AndrewsSt。　Andrews　and　me。

Oh；　it's　dreary　along　South　Street　when　the　rain　is　coming　down；　And　the　east　wind　makes　the　student　draw　more　close　his　warm　red　gown；　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