Murmurous

1959, Samuel Beckett, The Unnamable, in The Beckett Trilogy: Molloy; Malone Dies; The Unnamable, London: Calder, 1994, p. 397, It will be the same silence, the same as ever, murmurous with muted lamentation, panting and exhaling of impossible sorrow, like distant laughter, and brief spells of hush, as of one buried before his time.

Like as a fire, the which in hollow cave Hath long bene underkept, and down supprest, With murmurous disdaine doth inly rave, And grudge, in so streight prison to be prest,

Throughout all the isle There was no covert, no retired cave Unhaunted by the murmurous noise of waves, Though scarcely heard in many a green recess.

He felt some dark presence moving irresistably upon him from the darkness, a presence subtle and murmurous as a flood filling him wholly with itself.

Waiting, with a glass in my hand —three girls in crimson satin pass close before me on the murmurous background of the crowded opera—

Marvelling they stood, and watched the long grass swirled By the May breeze, murmurous with wasp and midge,

And if she speaks in her frail way, it is wholly to bewitch my smallest thought with a most swift radiance wherein slowly drift murmurous things divinely bright;

The seeming remoteness of its source was because of its murmurous indistinctness since it came from close-by, even from the men massed on the ship's open deck.