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The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson – Swanston Edition. Volume 14
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The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson – Swanston Edition. Volume 14
Robert Stevenson
Robert Louis Stevenson
The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson – Swanston Edition, Vol. 14
TO
ALISON CUNNINGHAM
FROM HER BOY
For the long nights you lay awake
And watched for my unworthy sake:
For your most comfortable hand
That led me through the uneven land:
For all the story-books you read:
For all the pains you comforted:
For all you pitied, all you bore,
In sad and happy days of yore: —
My second Mother, my first Wife,
The angel of my infant life —
From the sick child, now well and old,
Take, nurse, the little book you hold!
And grant it, Heaven, that all who read
May find as dear a nurse at need,
And every child who lists my rhyme,
In the bright, fireside, nursery clime,
May hear it in as kind a voice
As made my childish days rejoice!
R. L. S.
A CHILD’S GARDEN OF VERSES
I
BED IN SUMMER
In winter I get up at night
And dress by yellow candle-light.
In summer, quite the other way, —
I have to go to bed by day.
I have to go to bed and see
The birds still hopping on the tree,
Or hear the grown-up people’s feet
Still going past me in the street.
And does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play,
To have to go to bed by day?
II
A THOUGHT
It is very nice to think
The world is full of meat and drink,
With little children saying grace
In every Christian kind of place.
III
AT THE SEA-SIDE
When I was down beside the sea,
A wooden spade they gave to me
To dig the sandy shore.
My holes were empty like a cup,
In every hole the sea came up,
Till it could come no more.
IV
YOUNG NIGHT THOUGHT
All night long, and every night,
When my mamma puts out the light,
I see the people marching by,
As plain as day, before my eye.
Armies and emperors and kings,
All carrying different kinds of things,
And marching in so grand a way,
You never saw the like by day.
So fine a show was never seen
At the great circus on the green;
For every kind of beast and man
Is marching in that caravan.
At first they move a little slow,
But still the faster on they go,
And still beside them close I keep
Until we reach the town of Sleep.
Robert Stevenson
Robert Louis Stevenson
The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson – Swanston Edition, Vol. 14
TO
ALISON CUNNINGHAM
FROM HER BOY
For the long nights you lay awake
And watched for my unworthy sake:
For your most comfortable hand
That led me through the uneven land:
For all the story-books you read:
For all the pains you comforted:
For all you pitied, all you bore,
In sad and happy days of yore: —
My second Mother, my first Wife,
The angel of my infant life —
From the sick child, now well and old,
Take, nurse, the little book you hold!
And grant it, Heaven, that all who read
May find as dear a nurse at need,
And every child who lists my rhyme,
In the bright, fireside, nursery clime,
May hear it in as kind a voice
As made my childish days rejoice!
R. L. S.
A CHILD’S GARDEN OF VERSES
I
BED IN SUMMER
In winter I get up at night
And dress by yellow candle-light.
In summer, quite the other way, —
I have to go to bed by day.
I have to go to bed and see
The birds still hopping on the tree,
Or hear the grown-up people’s feet
Still going past me in the street.
And does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play,
To have to go to bed by day?
II
A THOUGHT
It is very nice to think
The world is full of meat and drink,
With little children saying grace
In every Christian kind of place.
III
AT THE SEA-SIDE
When I was down beside the sea,
A wooden spade they gave to me
To dig the sandy shore.
My holes were empty like a cup,
In every hole the sea came up,
Till it could come no more.
IV
YOUNG NIGHT THOUGHT
All night long, and every night,
When my mamma puts out the light,
I see the people marching by,
As plain as day, before my eye.
Armies and emperors and kings,
All carrying different kinds of things,
And marching in so grand a way,
You never saw the like by day.
So fine a show was never seen
At the great circus on the green;
For every kind of beast and man
Is marching in that caravan.
At first they move a little slow,
But still the faster on they go,
And still beside them close I keep
Until we reach the town of Sleep.
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