r. f. murray-第13部分

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There　was　a　girl；　forlorn　of　the　forlorn；　Whose　dress　was　white；　but　draggled；　soiled；　and　torn；　Who　wandered　like　a　ghost　without　a　home。　She　spoke　to　him　before　the　day　was　born。

She；　who　all　night；　when　spoken　to；　was　dumb；　Earning　dislike　from　most；　abuse　from　some；　Now　asked　the　hour；　and　when　he　told　her　‘Two；'　Wailed；　‘O　my　God；　will　daylight　never　come？'

Yes；　it　will　come；　and　change　the　sky　anew　From　star…besprinkled　black　to　sunlit　blue；　And　bring　sweet　thoughts　and　innocent　desires　To　countless　girls。　　What　will　it　bring　to　you？



A　SUMMER　MORNING



Never　was　sun　so　bright　before；　No　matin　of　the　lark　so　sweet；　No　grass　so　green　beneath　my　feet；　Nor　with　such　dewdrops　jewelled　o'er。

I　stand　with　thee　outside　the　door；　The　air　not　yet　is　close　with　heat；　And　far　across　the　yellowing　wheat　The　waves　are　breaking　on　the　shore。

A　lovely　day！　　Yet　many　such；　Each　like　to　each；　this　month　have　passed；　And　none　did　so　supremely　shine。　One　thing　they　lacked：　　the　perfect　touch　Of　theeand　thou　art　come　at　last；　And　half　this　loveliness　is　thine。



WELCOME　HOME



The　fire　burns　bright　And　the　hearth　is　clean　swept；　As　she　likes　it　kept；　And　the　lamp　is　alight。　She　is　coming　to…night。

The　wind's　east　of　late。　When　she　comes；　she'll　be　cold；　So　the　big　chair　is　rolled　Close　up　to　the　grate；　And　I　listen　and　wait。

The　shutters　are　fast；　And　the　red　curtains　hide　Every　hint　of　outside。　But　hark；　how　the　blast　Whistled　then　as　it　passed！

Or　was　it　the　train？　How　long　shall　I　stand；　With　my　watch　in　my　hand；　And　listen　in　vain　For　the　wheels　in　the　lane？

Hark！　　A　rumble　I　hear　（Will　the　wind　not　be　still？）；　And　it　comes　down　the　hill；　And　it　grows　on　the　ear；　And　now　it　is　near。

Quick；　a　fresh　log　to　burn！　Run　and　open　the　door；　Hold　a　lamp　out　before　To　light　up　the　turn；　And　bring　in　the　urn。

You　are　come；　then；　at　last！　O　my　dear；　is　it　you？　I　can　scarce　think　it　true　I　am　holding　you　fast；　And　sorrow　is　past。



AN　INVITATION



Dear　Ritchie；　I　am　waiting　for　the　signal　word　to　fly；　And　tell　me　that　the　visit　which　has　suffered　such　belating　Is　to　be　a　thing　of　now；　and　no　more　of　by…and…by。　Dear　Ritchie；　I　am　waiting。

The　sea　is　at　its　bluest；　and　the　Spring　is　new　creating　The　woods　and　dens　we　know　of；　and　the　fields　rejoicing　lie；　And　the　air　is　soft　as　summer；　and　the　hedge…birds　all　are　mating。

The　Links　are　full　of　larks'　nests；　and　the　larks　possess　the　sky；　Like　a　choir　of　happy　spirits；　melodiously　debating；　All　is　ready　for　your　coming；　dear　Ritchieyes；　and　I；　Dear　Ritchie；　I　am　waiting。



FICKLE　SUMMER



Fickle　Summer's　fled　away；　Shall　we　see　her　face　again？　Hearken　to　the　weeping　rain；　Never　sunbeam　greets　the　day。

More　inconstant　than　the　May；　She　cares　nothing　for　our　pain；　Nor　will　hear　the　birds　complain　In　their　bowers　that　once　were　gay。

Summer；　Summer；　come　once　more；　Drive　the　shadows　from　the　field；　All　thy　radiance　round　thee　fling；　Be　our　lady　as　of　yore；　Then　the　earth　her　fruits　shall　yield；　Then　the　morning　stars　shall　sing。



SORROW'S　TREACHERY



I　made　a　truce　last　night　with　Sorrow；　The　queen　of　tears；　the　foe　of　sleep；　To　keep　her　tents　until　the　morrow；　Nor　send　such　dreams　to　make　me　weep。

Before　the　lusty　day　was　springing；　Before　the　tired　moon　was　set；　I　dreamed　I　heard　my　dead　love　singing；　And　when　I　woke　my　eyes　were　wet。



THE　CROWN　OF　YEARS



Years　grow　and　gathereach　a　gem　Lustrous　with　laughter　and　with　tears；　And　cunning　Time　a　crown　of　years　Contrives　for　her　who　weareth　them。

No　chance　can　snatch　this　diadem；　It　trembles　not　with　hopes　or　fears；　It　shines　before　the　rose　appears；　And　when　the　leaves　forsake　her　stem。

Time　sets　his　jewels　one　by　one。　Then　wherefore　mourn　the　wreaths　that　lie　In　attic　chambers　of　the　past？　They　withered　ere　the　day　was　done。　This　coronal　will　never　die；　Nor　shall　you　lose　it　at　the　last。



HOPE　DEFERRED



When　the　weary　night　is　fled；　And　the　morning　sky　is　red；　Then　my　heart　doth　rise　and　say；　‘Surely　she　will　come　to…day。'

In　the　golden　blaze　of　noon；　‘Surely　she　is　coming　soon。'　In　the　twilight；　‘Will　she　come？'　Then　my　heart　with　fear　is　dumb。

When　the　night　wind　in　the　trees　Plays　its　mournful　melodies；　Then　I　know　my　trust　is　vain；　And　she　will　not　come　again。



THE　LIFE　OF　EARTH



The　life　of　earth；　how　full　of　pain；　Which　greets　us　on　our　day　of　birth；　Nor　leaves　us　while　we　yet　retain　The　life　of　earth。

There　is　a　shadow　on　our　mirth；　Our　sun　is　blotted　out　with　rain；　And　all　our　joys　are　little　worth。

Yet　oh；　when　life　begins　to　wane；　And　we　must　sail　the　doubtful　firth；　How　wild　the　longing　to　regain　The　life　of　earth！



GOLDEN　DREAM



Golden　dream　of　summer　morn；　By　a　well…remembered　stream　In　the　land　where　I　was　born；　Golden　dream！

Ripples；　by　the　glancing　beam　Lightly　kissed　in　playful　scorn；　Meadows　moist　with　sunlit　steam。

When　I　lift　my　eyelids　worn　Like　a　fair　mirage　you　seem；　In　the　winter　dawn　forlorn；　Golden　dream！



TEARS



Mourn　that　which　will　not　come　again；　The　joy；　the　strength　of　early　years。　Bow　down　thy　head；　and　let　thy　tears　Water　the　grave　where　hope　lies　slain。

For　tears　are　like　a　summer　rain；　To　murmur　in　a　mourner's　ears；　To　soften　all　the　field　of　fears；　To　moisten　valleys　parched　with　pain。

And　though　thy　tears　will　not　awake　What　lies　beneath　of　young　or　fair　And　sleeps　so　sound　it　draws　no　breath；　Yet；　watered　thus；　the　sod　may　break　In　flowers　which　sweeten　all　the　air；　And　fill　with　life　the　place　of　death。



THE　HOUSE　OF　SLEEP



When　we　have　laid　aside　our　last　endeavour；　And　said　farewell　to　one　or　two　that　weep；　And　issued　from　the　house　of　life　for　ever；　To　find　a　lodging　in　the　house　of　sleep　…

With　eyes　fast　shut；　in　sunless　chambers　lying；　With　folded　arms　unmoved　upon　the　breast；　Beyond　the　noise　of　sorrow　and　of　crying；　Beyond　the　dread　of　dreaming；　shall　we　rest？

Or　shall　there　come　at　last　desire　of　waking；　To　walk　again　on　hillsides　that　we　know；　When　sunrise　through　the　cold　white　mist　is　breaking；　Or　in　the　stillness　of　the　after…glow？

Shall　there　be　yearning　for　the　sound　of　voices；　The　sight　of　faces；　and　the　touch　of　hands；　The　will　that　works；　the　spirit　that　rejoices；　The　heart　that　feels；　the　mind　that　understands？

Shall　dreams　and　memories　crowding　from　the　distance；　Shall　ghosts　of　old　ambition　or　of　mirth；　Create　for　us　a　shadow　of　existence；　A　dim　reflection　of　the　life　of　earth？

And　being　dead；　and　powerless　to　recover　The　substance　of　the　show　whereon　we　gaze；　Shall　we　be　likened　to　the　hapless　lover；　Who　broods　upon　the　unreturning　days？

Not　so：　　for　we　have　known　how　swift　to　perish　Is　man's　delight　when　youth　and　health　take　wing；　Until　the　winter　leaves　him　nought　to　cherish　But　recollections　of　a　vanished　spring。

Dream　as　we　may；　desire　of　life　shall　never　Disturb　our　slumbers　in　the　house　of　sleep。　Yet　oh；　to　think　we　may　not　greet　for　ever　The　one　or　two　that；　when　we　leave　them；　weep！



THE　OUTCAST'S　FAREWELL



The　sun　is　banished；　The　daylight　vanished；　No　rosy　traces　Are　left　behind。　Here　in　the　meadow　I　watch　the　shadow　Of　forms　and　faces　Upon　your　blind。

Thro