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Robert Fuller Murray

Robert Fuller Murray

A Bunch of Triolets

You like the trifling triolet:
Well, here are three or four.
Unless your likings I forget,
You like the trifling triolet.
Against my conscience I abet
A taste which I deplore;
You like the trifling triolet:
Well, here are three or four.
 
Have you ever met with a pretty girl
Walking along the street,
With a nice new dress and her hair in curl?
Have you ever met with a pretty girl,
When her hat blew off and the wind with a whirl
Wafted it right to your feet?
Have you ever met with a pretty girl
Walking along the street?
 
I ran into a lady’s arms,
Turning a corner yesterday.
To my confusion, her alarms,
I ran into a lady’s arms.
So close a vision of her charms
Left me without a word to say.
I ran into a lady’s arms,
Turning a corner yesterday.
 
How many maids you love,
How many maids love you!
Your conscious blushes prove
How many maids you love.
Each trusts you like a dove,
But would she, if she knew
How many maids you love,
How many maids love you?

#AmericanWriters

Other works by Robert Fuller Murray...
A Ballad of the Town Water

It is the Police Commissioners, All on a winter’s day; And they to prove the town water Have set themselves away. They went to the north, they went…
Hymn of Hippolytus to Artemis

Artemis! thou fairest Of the maids that be In divine Olympus, Hail! Hail to thee! To thee I bring this woven weed
Sleep Flies Me

Sleep flies me like a lover Too eagerly pursued, Or like a bird to cover Within some distant wood, Where thickest boughs roof over
Where’s the Use?

Oh, where’s the use of having gift… And where’s the use of singing, wh… It may be one or two will say your… But where’s the use of honey, when…
Trafalgar Square

These verses have I pilfered like… Out of a letter from my C. C. C. In London, showing what befell hi… With other things, of interest to… One page described a night in open…
A Lover’s Confession

When people tell me they have love… But once in youth, I wonder, are they always moved To speak the truth? Not that they wilfully deceive:
Vivien’s Song

In Algebra, if Algebra be ours, x and x2 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 answe…
A Presentiment

It seems a little word to say - FAREWELL—but may it not, when… Be like the kiss we give the dead, Before they pass the doors for aye… Who knows if, on some after day,
Love Recalled in Sleep

There was a time when in your face There dwelt such power, and in you… I know not what of magic grace; They held me captive for a while. Ah, then I listened for your voic…
Stanzas for Music

I loved a little maiden In the golden years gone by; She lived in a mill, as they all d… (There is doubtless a reason why). But she faded in the autumn
Make-Believes

When I was young and well and gla… I used to play at being sad; Now youth and health are fled away… At being glad I sometimes play.
Aien Aristeuein (Motto of St. Andrews University)

Ever to be the best. To lead In whatsoever things are true; Not stand among the halting crew The faint of heart, the feeble-kne… Who tarry for a certain sign
The Harvesters, by Pieter Bruegel the Elder
The Wasted Day

Another day let slip! Its hours h… Its golden hours, with prodigal ex… All run to waste. A day of life t… Of many wasted days, alas, but one… Through my west window streams the…
A Song of Truce

Till the tread of marching feet Through the quiet grass-grown stre… Of the little town shall come, Soldier, rest awhile at home. While the banners idly hang,
Cairnsmill Den

As I, with hopeless love o’erthro… With love o’erthrown, with love o’… And this is truth I tell, As I, with hopeless love o’erthro… Was sadly walking all alone,



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