Robert F. Murray (Author of the Scarlet Gown): His Poems; with a Memoir

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 night – it 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,