Vivien's Song. At The L.L.A. Examination

In Algebra, if Algebra be ours,
x and x^2 can ne'er be equal powers,
Unless x=1, or none at all.

It is the little error in the sum,
That by and by will make the answer come
To something queer, or else not come at all.

The little error in the easy sum,
The little slit across the kettle-drum,
That makes the instrument not play at all.

It is not worth correcting: let it go:
But shall I?    Answer, Prudence, answer, no.
And bid me do it right or not at all.

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 Presentiment

Robert Fuller Murray, Simple Poetry

Fickle Summer

Robert Fuller Murray, Simple Poetry

Farewell To A Singer. On Her Marriage

Robert Fuller Murray, Simple Poetry

The Burial Of William The Conqueror

Robert Fuller Murray, Simple Poetry

English

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The Delights Of Mathematics

It seems a hundred years or more
    Since I, with note-book, ink and pen,
In cap and gown, first trod the floor
    Which I have often trod since then;
Yet well do I remember when,
    With fifty other fond fanatics,
I sought delights beyond my ken,
    The deep delights of Mathematics.

I knew that two and two made four,
    I felt that five times two were ten,
But, as for all profounder lore,
    The robin redbreast or the wren,
The sparrow, whether cock or hen,
    Knew quite as much about Quadratics,
Was less confused by x and n,
    The deep delights of Mathematics.

The Asses' Bridge I passed not o'er,
    I floundered in the noisome fen
Which lies behind it and before;
    I wandered in the gloomy glen
Where ...

Robert Fuller Murray

A Swinburnian Interlude

Short space shall be hereafter
    Ere April brings the hour
Of weeping and of laughter,
    Of sunshine and of shower,
Of groaning and of gladness,
Of singing and of sadness,
Of melody and madness,
    Of all sweet things and sour.

Sweet to the blithe bucolic
    Who knows nor cribs nor crams,
Who sees the frisky frolic
    Of lanky little lambs;
But sour beyond expression
To one in deep depression
Who sees the closing session
    And imminent exams.

He cannot hear the singing
    Of birds upon the bents,
Nor watch the wildflowers springing,
    Nor smell the April scents.
He gathers grief with grinding,
Foul food of sorrow finding
In books of dreary binding
    And drearier contents.

One hope alone su...

Robert Fuller Murray

Songs Of Education: V. The Higher Mathematics

Form 339125, Sub-Section M

        Twice one is two,
        Twice two is four,
But twice two is ninety-six if you know the way to score.
        Half of two is one,
        Half of four is two,
But half of four is forty per cent. if your name is Montagu:
    For everything else is on the square
    If done by the best quadratics;
    And nothing is low in High Finance
    Or the Higher Mathematics.

        A straight line is straight
        And a square mile is flat:
But you learn in trigonometrics a trick worth two of that.
        Two straight lines
        Can't enclose a Space,
But they can enclose a Corner to support the Chosen Race:
    For you never know what Dynamics do
    With the lower truths of Statics;
    And h...

Gilbert Keith Chesterton

Lilli Alm

    In Lola Schaefer's studio in the Tower,
    Tea being served to painters, poets, singers,
    Herr Ludwig Haibt, a none too welcome guest,
    Of vital body, brisk, too loud of voice,
    And Lilli Alm crossed swords.

    It came about
    When Ludwig Haibt said: "Have you read the papers
    About this Elenor Murray?" And then said:
    "I tried to train her voice - she was a failure."
    And Lilli Alm who taught the art of song
    Looked at him half contemptuous and said:
    "Why did she fail?" To which Herr Ludwig answered
    "She tried too hard. She made her throat too tense,
    And made its muscles stiff by too much thought,
    Anxiety for song, the vocal triumph."

    "O, yes, I understand," said Lilli Aim.
    Then stabbing him she...

Edgar Lee Masters

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

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