A YEAR AND A DAY - Robert Fuller Murray Poems


Poems » robert fuller murray » a year and a day


Slow days have passed that make a year,
    Slow hours that make a day,
Since I could take my first dear love
    And kiss him the old way;
Yet the green leaves touch me on the cheek,
    Dear Christ, this month of May.

I lie among the tall green grass
    That bends above my head
And covers up my wasted face
    And folds me in its bed
Tenderly and lovingly
    Like grass above the dead.

Dim phantoms of an unknown ill
    Float through my tired brain;
The unformed visions of my life
    Pass by in ghostly train;
Some pause to touch me on the cheek,
    Some scatter tears like rain.

A shadow falls along the grass
    And lingers at my feet;
A new face lies between my hands --
    Dear Christ, if I could weep
Tears to shut out the summer leaves
    When this new face I greet.

Still it is but the memory
    Of something I have seen
In the dreamy summer weather
    When the green leaves came between:
The shadow of my dear love's face --
    So far and strange it seems.

The river ever running down
    Between its grassy bed,
The voices of a thousand birds
    That clang above my head,
Shall bring to me a sadder dream
    When this sad dream is dead.

A silence falls upon my heart
    And hushes all its pain.
I stretch my hands in the long grass
    And fall to sleep again,
There to lie empty of all love
    Like beaten corn of grain.