The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Scarlet Gown, by R. F. Murray
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
Title: The Scarlet Gown
being verses by a St. Andrews Man
Author: R. F. Murray
Release Date: October 8, 2005 [eBook #16821]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SCARLET GOWN***
Transcribed from the 1891 Simpkin, Marshall, Hamilton & Co. edition by
David Price, ccx074@coventry.ac.uk
THE SCARLET GOWN:
BEING VERSES BY A ST. ANDREWS MAN
ST. ANDREWS, N.B.: A. M. HOLDEN
LONDON: SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, HAMILTON & CO.
1891
' . . . the little town,
The drifting surf, the wintry year,
The college of the scarlet gown,
St. Andrews by the Northern Sea,
That is a haunted town to me.'
ANDREW LANG.
PREFACE
St. Andrews, but for its Town Council and its School Board, is a quiet
place; and the University, except during the progress of a Rectorial
Election, is peaceable and well-conducted. I hope these verses may so
far reflect St. Andrews life as to be found pleasant, if not over
exciting.
I am able to reprint the verses on 'The City of Golf' by the special
courtesy of the Editor of the _Saturday Review_.
A few explanatory notes are given at the end of the book.
R. F. MURRAY.
THE VOICE THAT SINGS
The voice that sings across the night
Of long forgotten days and things,
Is there an ear to hear aright
The voice that sings?
It is as when a curfew rings
Melodious in the dying light,
A sound that flies on pulsing wings.
And faded eyes that once were bright
Brim over, as to life it brings
The echo of a dead delight,
The voice that sings.
THE BEST PIPE
In vain you fervently extol,
In vain you puff, your cutty clay.
A twelvemonth smoked and black as coal,
'Tis redolent of rank decay
And bones of monks long passed away--
A fragrance I do not admire;
And so I hold my nose and say,
Give me a finely seasoned briar.
Macleod, whose judgment on the whole
Is faultless, has been led astray
To nurse a high-born meerschaum bowl,
For which he sweetly had to pay.
Ah, let him nurse it as he may,
|