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A Child's Garden of Verses
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A Child's Garden of Verses

by Stevenson Robert Louis

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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:

Here he lies, where he longed to be;
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 26
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href="@public@vhost@g@gutenberg@html@files@19722@[email protected]#THE_COW" class="pginternal" tag="{http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml}a">The Cow 27 Foreign Lands 28-29 System 30 At the Seaside 31 Happy Thought 32 The Land of Nod 33 Windy Nights 34-35 Time to Rise 36 Rain 37 Foreign Children 38 Looking Forward 39 My Shadow 40-42 The Sun's Travels 43 Looking-Glass River 44-45 The Lamplighter 46-47 Singing 48 Travel 49-51 My Bed is a Boat 52-53 Keepsake Mill 54-55 The Unseen Playmate 56-57 My Ship and I 58-59
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The Wind 60-61 A Good Boy 62-63 Good and Bad Children 64-65 Picture-Books in Winter 66-67 The Swing 68-69 A Thought 70 Armies in the Fire 71 My Kingdom 72-73 Shadow March 74-75 Winter-Time 76-77 The Little Land 78-81 In Port 82-83 Night and Day 84-86 Nest Eggs 87-88 The Flowers 89 From a Railway Carriage 90 My Treasures 91-92 Block City 93-94 The Gardener 95-96

A CHILD'S
GARDEN of VERSES


BED IN SUMMER

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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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

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id="pgepubid00011">FAIRY BREAD
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.

MARCHING SONG

Bring the comb and play upon it!
Marching, here we come!
Willie cocks his highland bonnet,
Johnnie beats the drum.
Mary Jane commands the party,
Peter leads the rear;
Feet in time, alert and hearty,
Each a Grenadier!
All in the most martial manner
Marching double-quick;
While the napkin like a banner
Waves upon the stick!
Here's enough of fame and pillage,
Great commander Jane!
Now that we've been round the village,
Let's go home again.

"Boats of mine a-boating"

WHERE GO THE BOATS?

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.
Away down the river,
A hundred miles or more,
Other little children
Shall bring my boats ashore.

THE HAYLOFT

Through all the pleasant meadow-side
The grass grew shoulder-high,
Till the shining scythes went far and wide
And cut it down to dry.
These green and sweetly smelling crops
They led in wagons
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home;
And they piled them here in mountain-tops
For mountaineers to roam.
Here is Mount Clear, Mount Rusty-Nail,
Mount Eagle and Mount High;—
The mice that in these mountains dwell,
No happier are than I!
O what a joy to clamber there,
O what a place for play,
With the sweet, the dim, the dusty air,
The happy hills of hay!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

AUNTIE'S
SKIRTS

Whenever Auntie moves around
Her dresses make a curious sound.
They trail behind her up the floor,
And trundle after through the door.