A CHILD'S
GARDEN
of VERSES
By
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSoN
ILLUSTRATED BY
MYRTLE SHELDON
M. A. DONOHUE & CO.
CHICAGO
Copyright 1916
By
M. A. DONOHUE
AND
COMPANY
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:
Home is the Sailor, home from the sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.
CONTENTS
PAGE Bed in Summer 10 Young Night Thought 11 Pirate Story 12-13 Farewell to the Farm 14-15 The Land of Counterpane 16 Fairy Bread 17 Escape at Bedtime 18-19 A Good Play 20 Marching Song 21 Where Go the Boats 22-23 The Hayloft 24 Auntie's Skirts 25 The Moon 26A CHILD'S
GARDEN of VERSES
BED IN SUMMER
And dress by yellow candle light.
In summer quite the other way,
I have to go to bed by day.
The birds still hopping on the tree,
Or hear the grown-up people's feet,
Still going past me in the street.
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
When my mamma puts out the light
I see the people marching by,
As plain as day, before my eye.
All carrying different kinds of things,
And marching in so grand a way,
You never saw the like by day.
At the great circus on the green;
For every kind beast and man
Is marching in that caravan.
But still the faster on they go,
And still beside them close I keep
Until we reach the Town of Sleep.
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.
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?
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 eager children, mounting fast
And kissing hands, in chorus sing:
Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!
The meadow-gates we swung upon,
To pump and stable, tree and swing,
Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!
O ladder at the hayloft door,
O hayloft where the cobwebs cling,
Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!
The trees and houses smaller grow;
Last, round the woody turn we swing:
Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!
THE LAND OF COUNTERPANE
I had two pillows at my head,
And all my toys beside me lay
To keep me happy all the day.
I watched my leaden soldiers go,
With different uniforms and drills,
Among the bed-clothes, through the hills.
All up and down among the sheets;
Or brought my trees and houses out,
And planted cities all about.
That sits upon the pillow-hill,
And sees before him, dale and plain
The pleasant Land of Counterpane.
Here is fairy bread to eat
Children, you may dine
And the shade of pine
Fairy stories hear and tell.
ESCAPE
AT
BEDTIME
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.
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
All made of the back-bedroom chairs,
And filled it full of sofa pillows
To go a-sailing on the billows.
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.
And had the very best of plays;
But Tom fell out and hurt his knee,
So there was no one left but me.
MARCHING SONG
Marching, here we come!
Willie cocks his highland bonnet,
Johnnie beats the drum.
Peter leads the rear;
Feet in time, alert and hearty,
Each a Grenadier!
Marching double-quick;
While the napkin like a banner
Waves upon the stick!
Great commander Jane!
Now that we've been round the village,
Let's go home again.
WHERE GO THE BOATS?
Golden is the sand.
It flows along for ever,
With trees on either hand.
Castles of the foam,
Boats of mine a-boating—
Where will all come home?
And out past the mill,
Away down the valley,
Away down the hill.
A hundred miles or more,
Other little children
Shall bring my boats ashore.
THE HAYLOFT
The grass grew shoulder-high,
Till the shining scythes went far and wide
And cut it down to dry.
They led in wagons
And they piled them here in mountain-tops
For mountaineers to roam.
Mount Eagle and Mount High;—
The mice that in these mountains dwell,
No happier are than I!
O what a place for play,
With the sweet, the dim, the dusty air,
The happy hills of hay!
AUNTIE'S
SKIRTS
Her dresses make a curious sound.
They trail behind her up the floor,
And trundle after through the door.