Milton. With Apologies To Lord Tennyson

O swallow-tailed purveyor of college sprees,
O skilled to please the student fraternity,
    Most honoured publican of Scotland,
            Milton, a name to adorn the Cross Keys;
Whose chosen waiters, Samuel, Archibald,
Helped by the boots and marker at billiards,
    Wait, as the smoke-filled, crowded chamber
            Rings to the roar of a Gaelic chorus--
Me rather all those temperance hostelries,
The soda siphon fizzily murmuring,
    And lime fruit juice and seltzer water
            Charm, as a wanderer out in South Street,
Where some recruiting, eager Blue-Ribbonites
Spied me afar and caught by the Post Office,
    And crimson-nosed the latest convert
            Fastened the odious badge upon me.

Robert Fuller Murray

Robert Fuller Murray was a Scottish poet known for his lyrical and expressive poetry. Born on December 26, 1863, in Roxbury, Massachusetts, he moved to Scotland at a young age. Despite a short life, ending on April 15, 1894, Murray left a significant mark with his works, which often reflected themes of nature and human emotion. His poetry is characterized by its elegance and depth of feeling. Murray's influence remained through posthumous publications and collections of his poetry.

Robert Fuller Murray

The Golf-Ball And The Loan. After Longfellow

Robert Fuller Murray, Simple Poetry

Death At The Window

Robert Fuller Murray, Simple Poetry

Nightfall

Robert Fuller Murray, Simple Poetry

Sweetheart

Robert Fuller Murray, Simple Poetry

English

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Adventure Of A Poet

As I was walking down the street
    A week ago,
Near Henderson's I chanced to meet
    A man I know.

His name is Alexander Bell,
    His home, Dundee;
I do not know him quite so well
    As he knows me.

He gave my hand a hearty shake,
    Discussed the weather,
And then proposed that we should take
    A stroll together.

Down College Street we took our way,
    And there we met
The beautiful Miss Mary Gray,
    That arch coquette,
Who stole last spring my heart away
    And has it yet.

That smile with which my bow she greets,
    Would it were fonder!
Or else less fond--since she its sweets
    On all must squander.
Thus, when I meet her in the streets,
    I sadly ponder,
And after her, as she r...

Robert Fuller Murray

A College Career

I

When one is young and eager,
    A bejant and a boy,
Though his moustache be meagre,
    That cannot mar his joy
When at the Competition
He takes a fair position,
And feels he has a mission,
    A talent to employ.

With pride he goes each morning
    Clad in a scarlet gown,
A cap his head adorning
    (Both bought of Mr. Brown);
He hears the harsh bell jangle,
And enters the quadrangle,
The classic tongues to mangle
    And make the ancients frown.

He goes not forth at even,
    He burns the midnight oil,
He feels that all his heaven
    Depends on ceaseless toil;
Across his exercises
A dream of many prizes
Before his spirit rises,
    And makes his raw blood boil.

II

Though he b...

Robert Fuller Murray

Stinkomalee Triumphans

Whene'er with pitying eye I view
Each operative sot in town.
I smile to think how wondrous few
Get drunk who study at the University we've Got in town,

What precious fools 'The People' grew,
Their alma mater not in town;
The 'useful classes' hardly knew
Four was composed of two and two,
Until they learned it at the University we've Got in town.

But now they're taught by Joseph Hume, by far the cleverest Scot in town,
Their items and their tottles too
Each may dissect his sister Sue,
From his instructions at the University we've Got in town.

Then LE comes, like him how few
Can caper and can trot in town,
In pirouette or pas de deux
He beats the famed Monsieur Giroux,
And teaches dancing at the University we've Got in town.

And...

Richard Harris Barham

Hic Vir, Hic Est.

Often, when o'er tree and turret,
Eve a dying radiance flings,
By that ancient pile I linger
Known familiarly as "King's."
And the ghosts of days departed
Rise, and in my burning breast
All the undergraduate wakens,
And my spirit is at rest.

What, but a revolting fiction,
Seems the actual result
Of the Census's enquiries
Made upon the 15th ult.?
Still my soul is in its boyhood;
Nor of year or changes recks.
Though my scalp is almost hairless,
And my figure grows convex.

Backward moves the kindly dial;
And I'm numbered once again
With those noblest of their species
Called emphatically 'Men':
Loaf, as I have loafed aforetime,
Through the streets, with tranquil mind,
And a long-backed fancy-mongrel
Trailing casually ...

Charles Stuart Calverley

Milton (Alcaics)

O mighty-mouth'd inventor of harmonies,
O skill'd to sing of Time or Eternity,
God-gifted organ-voice of England,
Milton, a name to resound for ages;
Whose Titan angels, Gabriel, Abdiel,
Starr'd from Jehovah's gorgeous armouries,
Tower, as the deep-domed empyrean
Rings to the roar of an angel onset--
Me rather all that bowery loneliness,
The brooks of Eden mazily murmuring,
And bloom profuse and cedar arches
Charm, as a wanderer out in ocean,
Where some refulgent sunset of India
Streams o'er a rich ambrosial ocean isle,
And crimson-hued the stately palm-woods
Whisper in odorous heights of even.

Alfred Lord Tennyson

The End Of April

This is the time when larks are singing loud
    And higher still ascending and more high,
This is the time when many a fleecy cloud
    Runs lamb-like on the pastures of the sky,
This is the time when most I love to lie
    Stretched on the links, now listening to the sea,
Now looking at the train that dawdles by;
    But James is going in for his degree.

James is my brother.    He has twice been ploughed,
    Yet he intends to have another shy,
Hoping to pass (as he says) in a crowd.
    Sanguine is James, but not so sanguine I.
If you demand my reason, I reply:
    Because he reads no Greek without a key
And spells Thucydides c-i-d-y;
    Yet James is going in for his degree.

No doubt, if the authorities allowed
    The taking in of Bohns, ...

Robert Fuller Murray