r. f. murray- 第8部分

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　it　doth　please　Than　any　other　charm　that's　theirs；　Than　all　their　manners；　all　their　airs。

But　dress　in　her；　although　indeed　It　perfect　be；　we　do　not　heed；　Because　the　face；　the　form；　the　air　Are　all　so　gentle　and　so　rare。



THE　WASTED　DAY



Another　day　let　slip！　　Its　hours　have　run；　Its　golden　hours；　with　prodigal　excess；　All　run　to　waste。　　A　day　of　life　the　less；　Of　many　wasted　days；　alas；　but　one！

Through　my　west　window　streams　the　setting　sun。　I　kneel　within　my　chamber；　and　confess　My　sin　and　sorrow；　filled　with　vain　distress；　In　place　of　honest　joy　for　work　well　done。

At　noon　I　passed　some　labourers　in　a　field。　The　sweat　ran　down　upon　each　sunburnt　face；　Which　shone　like　copper　in　the　ardent　glow。　And　one　looked　up；　with　envy　unconcealed；　Beholding　my　cool　cheeks　and　listless　pace；　Yet　he　was　happier；　though　he　did　not　know。



INDOLENCE



Fain　would　I　shake　thee　off；　but　weak　am　I　Thy　strong　solicitations　to　withstand。　Plenty　of　work　lies　ready　to　my　hand；　Which　rests　irresolute；　and　lets　it　lie。

How　can　I　work；　when　that　seductive　sky　Smiles　through　the　window；　beautiful　and　bland；　And　seems　to　half　entreat　and　half　command　My　presence　out　of　doors　beneath　its　eye？

Will　not　the　air　be　fresh；　the　water　blue；　The　smell　of　beanfields；　blowing　to　the　shore；　Better　than　these　poor　drooping　purchased　flowers？　Good…bye；　dull　books！　　Hot　room；　good…bye　to　you！　And　think　it　strange　if　I　return　before　The　sea　grows　purple　in　the　evening　hours。



DAWN　SONG



I　hear　a　twittering　of　birds；　And　now　they　burst　in　song。　How　sweet；　although　it　wants　the　words！　It　shall　not　want　them　long；　For　I　will　set　some　to　the　note　Which　bubbles　from　the　thrush's　throat。

O　jewelled　night；　that　reign'st　on　high；　Where　is　thy　crescent　moon？　Thy　stars　have　faded　from　the　sky；　The　sun　is　coming　soon。　The　summer　night　is　passed　away；　Sing　welcome　to　the　summer　day。



CAIRNSMILL　DENTUNE：　　‘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　pull　with　you；　Along　with　you；　along　with　you；'　And　this　is　truth　I　tell。　Says　I；　‘Come　let　me　pull　with　you；　For　one　is　not　so　good　as　two。'

But　when　at　noon　we　climbed　the　hill；　We　climbed　the　hill；　we　climbed　the　hill；　And　this　is　truth　I　tell。　But　when　at　noon　we　climbed　the　hill；　Her　hands　and　mine　were　empty　still。

And　when　we　reached　the　top　so　high；　The　top　so　high；　the　top　so　high；　And　this　is　truth　I　tell。　And　when　we　reached　the　top　so　high　Says　I；　‘I'll　kiss　you；　if　I　die！'

I　kissed　my　love　in　Cairnsmill　Den；　In　Cairnsmill　Den；　in　Cairnsmill　Den；　And　this　is　truth　I　tell。　I　kissed　my　love　in　Cairnsmill　Den；　And　my　love　kissed　me　back　again。

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　LOST　OPPORTUNITY



One　dark；　dark　nightit　was　long　ago；　The　air　was　heavy　and　still　and　warm　…　It　fell　to　me　and　a　man　I　know；　To　see　two　girls　to　their　father's　farm。

There　was　little　seeing；　that　I　recall：　We　seemed　to　grope　in　a　cave　profound。　They　might　have　come　by　a　painful　fall；　Had　we　not　helped　them　over　the　ground。

The　girls　were　sisters。　　Both　were　fair；　But　mine　was　the　fairer　（so　I　say）。　The　dark　soon　severed　us；　pair　from　pair；　And　not　long　after　we　lost　our　way。

We　wandered　over　the　country…side；　And　we　frightened　most　of　the　sheep　about；　And　I　do　not　think　that　we　greatly　tried；　Having　lost　our　way；　to　find　it　out。

The　night　being　fine；　it　was　not　worth　while。　We　strayed　through　furrow　and　corn　and　grass　We　met　with　many　a　fence　and　stile；　And　a　quickset　hedge；　which　we　failed　to　pass。

At　last　we　came　on　a　road　she　knew；　She　said　we　were　near　her　father's　place。　I　heard　the　steps　of　the　other　two；　And　my　heart　stood　still　for　a　moment's　space。

Then　I　pleaded；　‘Give　me　a　good…night　kiss。'　I　have　learned；　but　I　did　not　know　in　time；　The　fruits　that　hang　on　the　tree　of　bliss　Are　not　for　cravens　who　will　not　climb。

We　met　all　four　by　the　farmyard　gate；　We　parted　laughing；　with　half　a　sigh；　And　home　we　went；　at　a　quicker　rate；　A　shorter　journey；　my　friend　and　I。

When　we　reached　the　house；　it　was　late　enough；　And　many　impertinent　things　were　said；　Of　time　and　distance；　and　such　dull　stuff；　But　we　said　little；　and　went　to　bed。

We　went　to　bed；　but　one　at　least　Went　not　to　sleep　till　the　black　turned　grey；　And　the　sun　rose　up；　and　the　light　increased；　And　the　birds　awoke　to　a　summer　day。

And　sometimes　now；　when　the　nights　are　mild；　And　the　moon　is　away；　and　no　stars　shine；　I　wander　out；　and　I　go　half…wild；　To　think　of　the　kiss　which　was　not　mine。

Let　great　minds　laugh　at　a　grief　so　small；　Let　small　minds　laugh　at　a　fool　so　great。　Kind　maidens；　pity　me；　one　and　all。　Shy　youths；　take　warning　by　this　my　fate。



THE　CAGED　THRUSH



Alas　for　the　bird　who　was　born　to　sing！　They　have　made　him　a　cage；　they　have　clipped　his　wing；　They　have　shut　him　up　in　a　dingy　street；　And　they　praise　his　singing　and　call　it　sweet。　But　his　heart　and　his　song　are　saddened　and　filled　With　the　woods；　and　the　nest　he　never　will　build；　And　the　wild　young　dawn　coming　into　the　tree；　And　the　mate　that　never　his　mate　will　be。　And　day　by　day；　when　his　notes　are　heard　They　freshen　the　streetbut　alas　for　the　bird



MIDNIGHT



The　air　is　dark　and　fragrant　With　memories　of　a　shower；　And　sanctified　with　stillness　By　this　most　holy　hour。

The　leaves　forget　to　whisper　Of　soft　and　secret　things；　And　every　bird　is　silent；　With　folded　eyes　and　wings。

O　blessed　hour　of　midnight；　Of　sleep　and　of　release；　Thou　yieldest　to　the　toiler　The　wages　of　thy　peace。

And　I；　who　have　not　laboured；　Nor　borne　the　heat　of　noon；　Receive　thy　tranquil　quiet　…　An　undeserved　boon。

Yes；　truly　God　is　gracious；　Who　makes　His　sun　to　shine　Upon　the　good　and　evil；　And　idle　lives　like　mine。

Upon　the　just　and　unjust　He　sends　His　rain　to　fall；　And　gives　this　hour　of　blessing　Freely　alike　to　all。



WHERE'S　THE　USE



Oh；　where's　the　use　of　having　gifts　that　can't　be　turned　to　money？　And　where's　the　use　of　singing；　when　there's　no　one　wants　to　hear？　It　may　be　one　or　two　will　say　your　songs　are　sweet　as　honey；　But　where's　the　use　of　honey；　when　the　loaf　of　bread　is　dear？



A　MAY…DAY　MADRIGAL



The　sun　shines　fair　on　Tweedside；　the　river　flowing　bright；　Your　heart　is　full　of　pleasure；　your　eyes　are　full　of　light；　Your　cheeks　are　like　the　morning；　your　pearls　are　like　the　dew；　Or　morning　and　her　dew…drops　are　like　your　pearls　and　you。

Because　you　are　a　princess；　a　princess　of　the　land；　You　will　not　turn　your　lightsome　eyes　a　moment　where　I　stand；　A　poor　unnoticed　poet；　a…making　of　his　rhymes；　But　I　have　found　a　mistress；　more　fair　a　thousand　times。

‘Tis　May；　the　elfish　maiden；　the　daughter　of　the　Spring；　Upon　whose　birthday　morning　the　birds　delight　to　sing。　They　would　not　sing　one　note　for　you；　if　you　should　so　command；　Although　you　are　a　princess；　a　princess　of　the　land。



SONG　IS　NOT　DEAD



Song　is　not　dead；　although　to…day　Men　tell　us　everything　is　said。　There　yet　is　something　left　to　say；　Song　is　not　dead。

While　still　the　evening　sky　is　red；　While　still　the　morning　gold　and　grey；　While　still　the　autumn　leaves　are　shed；

While　still　the　heart　of　youth　is　gay；　And　honour　crowns　the　hoary　head；　While　men　and　women　love　and　pray　Song　is　not　dead。



A　SONG　OF　TRUCE



Till　the　tread　of　marching　feet　Through　the　quiet　grass…grown　street　Of　the　little　town　shall　come；　Soldier；　re