Song From 'The Princess'

As through the street at eve we went
    (It might be half-past ten),
We fell out, my friend and I,
About the cube of x+y,
    And made it up again.
And blessings on the falling out
    Between two learned men,
Who fight on points which neither knows,
    And make it up again!
For when we came where stands an inn
    We visit now and then,
There above a pint of beer,
Oh there above a pint of beer,
    We made it up again.

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

A Bunch Of Triolets

Robert Fuller Murray, Simple Poetry

The Banished Bejant. From The Unpublished Remains Of Edgar Allan Poe

Robert Fuller Murray, Simple Poetry

To J. R.

Robert Fuller Murray, Simple Poetry

Death At The Window

Robert Fuller Murray, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

To C. C. C.

Oh for the nights when we used to sit
    In the firelight's glow or flicker,
With the gas turned low and our pipes all lit,
    And the air fast growing thicker;

When you, enthroned in the big arm-chair,
    Would spin for us yarns unending,
Your voice and accent and pensive air
    With the narrative subtly blending!

Oh for the bleak and wintry days
    When we set our blood in motion,
Leaping the rocks below the braes
    And wetting our feet in the ocean,

Or shying at marks for moderate sums
    (A penny a hit, you remember),
With aching fingers and purple thumbs,
    In the merry month of December!

There is little doubt we were very daft,
    And our sports, like the stakes, were trifling;
While the air of the room where ...

Robert Fuller Murray

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

Thirty Years After

Two old St. Andrews men, after a separation of nearly thirty years, meet by chance at a wayside inn.    They interchange experiences; and at length one of them, who is an admirer of Mr. Swinburne's Poems and Ballads, speaks as follows:

If you were now a bejant,
    And I a first year man,
We'd grind and grub together
In every kind of weather,
When Winter's snows were regent,
    Or when the Spring began;
If you were now a bejant,
    And I a first year man.

If you were what you once were,
    And I the same man still,
You'd be the gainer by it,
For you--you can't deny it--
A most uncommon dunce were;
    My profit would be nil,
If you were what you once were,
    And I the same man still.

If you were last in Latin,
    And I ...

Robert Fuller Murray

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 pu...

Robert Fuller Murray

Stanzas For Music

I loved a little maiden
    In the golden years gone by;
She lived in a mill, as they all do
    (There is doubtless a reason why).
But she faded in the autumn
    When the leaves began to fade,
And the night before she faded,
    These words to me she said:
'Do not forget me, Henry,
    Be noble and brave and true;
But I must not bide, for the world is wide,
    And the sky above is blue.'

So I said farewell to my darling,
    And sailed away and came back;
And the good ship Jane was in port again,
    And I found that they all loved Jack.
But Polly and I were sweethearts,
    As all the neighbours know,
Before I met with the mill-girl
    Twenty years ago.
So I thought I would go and see her,
    But alas, she had faded ...

Robert Fuller Murray

A Ballad Of Refreshment

The lady stood at the station bar,
    (Three currants in a bun)
And oh she was proud, as ladies are.
    (And the bun was baked a week ago.)

For a weekly wage she was standing there,
    (Three currants in a bun)
With a prominent bust and light gold hair.
    (And the bun was baked a week ago.)

The express came in at half-past two,
    (Three currants in a bun)
And there lighted a man in the navy blue.
    (And the bun was baked a week ago.)

A stout sea-captain he was, I ween.
    (Three currants in a bun)
Much travel had made him very keen.
    (And the bun was baked a week ago.)

A sober man and steady was he.
    (Three currants in a bun)
He called not for brandy, but called for tea.
    (And the bun was baked a week a...

Robert Fuller Murray