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A Child's Garden of Verses
Robert Louis Stevenson
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.
Contents
To Alison Cunningham
The Child Alone
Garden Days
Envoys
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.
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.
All night long and every night, When my mama puts out the light, I see the people marching by, As plain as day before my eye.
Armies and emperor 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.
As first they move a little slow, But still the faster on they go, And still beside me close I keep Until we reach the town of Sleep.
V Whole Duty of Children
A child should always say what's true And speak when he is spoken to, And behave mannerly at table; At least as far as he is able.
VI Rain
The rain is falling all around, It falls on field and tree, It rains on the umbrellas here, And on the ships at sea.
Three of us afloat in the meadow by the swing, Three of us abroad in the basket on the lea. Winds are in the air, they are blowing in the spring, And waves are on the meadow like the waves there are at sea.
Where shall we adventure, to-day that we're afloat, Wary of the weather and steering by a star? Shall it be to Africa, a-steering of the boat, To Providence, or Babylon or off to Malabar?
Hi! but here's a squadron a-rowing on the sea-- Cattle on the meadow a-charging with a roar! Quick, and we'll escape them, they're as mad as they can be, The wicket is the harbour and the garden is the shore.
Up into the cherry tree Who should climb but little me? I held the trunk with both my hands And looked abroad in foreign lands.
I saw the next door garden lie, Adorned with flowers, before my eye, And many pleasant places more That I had never seen before.
I saw the dimpling river pass And be the sky's blue looking-glass; The dusty roads go up and down With people tramping in to town.
If I could find a higher tree Farther and farther I should see, To where the grown-up river slips Into the sea among the ships,
To where the roads on either hand Lead onward into fairy land, Where all the children dine at five, And all the playthings come alive.
Whenever the moon and stars are set, Whenever the wind is high, All night long in the dark and wet, A man goes riding by. Late in the night when the fires are out, Why does he gallop and gallop about?
X Travel
I should like to rise and go Where the golden apples grow;-- Where below another sky Parrot islands anchored lie, And, watched by cockatoos and goats, Lonely Crusoes building boats;-- Where in sunshine reaching out Eastern cities, miles about, Are with mosque and minaret Among sandy gardens set, And the rich goods from near and far Hang for sale in the bazaar;-- Where the Great Wall round China goes, And on one side the desert blows, And with the voice and bell and drum, Cities on the other hum;-- Where are forests hot as fire, Wide as England, tall as a spire, Full of apes and cocoa-nuts And the negro hunters' huts;-- Where the knotty crocodile Lies and blinks in the Nile, And the red flamingo flies Hunting fish before his eyes;-- Where in jungles near and far, Man-devouring tigers are, Lying close and giving ear Lest the hunt be drawing near, Or a comer-by be seen Swinging in the palanquin;-- Where among the desert sands Some deserted city stands, All its children, sweep and prince, Grown to manhood ages since, Not a foot in street or house, Not a stir of child or mouse, And when kindly falls the night, In all the town no spark of light. There I'll come when I'm a man With a camel caravan; Light a fire in the gloom Of some dusty dining room; See the pictures on the walls, Heroes, fights and festivals; And in a corner find the toys Of the old Egyptian boys.
Of speckled eggs the birdie sings And nests among the trees; The sailor sings of ropes and things In ships upon the seas.
The children sing in far Japan, The children sing in Spain; The organ with the organ man Is singing in the rain.
When I am grown to man's estate I shall be very proud and great, And tell the other girls and boys Not to meddle with my toys.
We built a ship upon the stairs All made of the back-bedroom chairs, And filled it full of sofa pillows To go a-sailing on the billows.
We took a saw and several nails, And water in the nursery pails; And Tom said, "Let us also take An apple and a slice of cake;"-- Which was enough for Tom and me To go a-sailing on, till tea.
We sailed along for days and days, And had the very best of plays; But Tom fell out and hurt his knee, So there was no one left but me.
Dark brown is the river, Golden is the sand. It flows along for ever, With trees on either hand.
Green leaves a-floating, Castles of the foam, Boats of mine a-boating-- Where will all come home?
On goes the river And out past the mill, Away down the valley, Away down the hill.
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