A Child's Garden of Verses

***

Robert Louis Stevenson

Illustrated by Myrtle Sheldon

Chicago

M. A. Donohue & Co.

Published in 1916

epubBooks.com

Provided for free by epubBooks.com. Not for commercial use.

This EPUB eBook is released under a Creative Commons (BY-NC-ND/3.0) Licence. (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/)

Source text and images taken from the Public Domain.

www.epubbooks.com

Support epubBooks and make a PayPal donation by visiting epubBooks.com/donations.

BY WAY OF INTRODUCTION

Nothing has ever been written that appeals to a child’s nature more than "A CHILD’S GARDEN OF VERSES." It is written in a simple verse that a child can readily understand. It was one of the earlier efforts of the author, Robert Louis Stevenson, a Scotchman by birth, who, owing to ill–health, became a world traveler. During his travels he visited the United States, spending a year among our famous resorts. Later he visited Australia and the South Sea Islands, which climate agreed with him to such an extent that he finally settled down and made his home on the island of Samoa. He continued his travels from that point, often visiting the Hawaiian Islands, Australia and New Zealand. He formed a strong friendship for the natives of Samoa, and did a great deal to improve their conditions. He died on the island, and at his own request was buried on the top of one of its beautiful mountains, with the following lines upon his tomb:

Here he lies, where he longed to be;
Home is the Sailor, home from the sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.

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?

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 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.

PIRATE STORY

Three of us afloat in the meadow by the swing.

Three of us aboard 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 harbor and the garden is the shore.

FAREWELL TO THE FARM

The coach is at the door at last;

The eager children, mounting fast

And kissing hands, in chorus sing:

Good–bye, good–bye, to everything!

To house and garden, field and lawn,

The meadow–gates we swung upon,

To pump and stable, tree and swing,

Good–bye, good–bye, to everything!

And fare you well for evermore,

O ladder at the hayloft door,

O hayloft where the cobwebs cling,

Good–bye, good–bye, to everything!

Crack goes the whip, and off we go;

The trees and houses smaller grow;

Last, round the woody turn we swing:

Good–bye, good–bye, to everything!

THE LAND OF COUNTERPANE

When I was sick and lay a–bed,

I had two pillows at my head,

And all my toys beside me lay

To keep me happy all the day.

And sometimes for an hour or so

I watched my leaden soldiers go,

With different uniforms and drills,

Among the bed–clothes, through the hills.

And sometimes sent my ships in fleets

All up and down among the sheets;

Or brought my trees and houses out,

And planted cities all about.

I was the giant great and still

That sits upon the pillow–hill,

And sees before him, dale and plain

The pleasant Land of Counterpane.

Come up here, O dusty feet!

  Here is fairy bread to eat

Here in my retiring room,

  Children, you may dine

On the golden smell of broom

  And the shade of pine

And when you have eaten well,

  Fairy stories hear and tell.

ESCAPE AT BEDTIME

The lights from the parlor and kitchen shone out

  Through the blinds and the windows and bars;

And high over head and all moving about,

  There were thousands of millions of stars.

There ne’er were such thousands of leaves on a tree,

  Nor of people in church or the Park,

As the crowds of the stars that looked down upon me,

  And that glittered and winked in the dark.

The Dog, and the Plough, and the Hunter and all,

  And the star of the sailor, and Mars,

These shone in the sky, and the pail by the wall

  Would be half full of water and stars.

They saw me at last, and they chased me with cries,

  And they soon had me packed into bed;

But the glory kept shining and bright in my eyes,

And the stars going round in my head.

A GOOD PLAY

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.