A Child's Garden of Verses

Robert Louis Stevenson

Illustrated by Jessie Willcox Smith

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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.

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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?

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.

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.

Young Night-Thought

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 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.

Whole Duty of Children

A child should always say what's true
And speak when he is spoken to,
And behave nicely at the table,
At least as far as he is able.

Rain

The rain is raining all around,
It falls on field and tree,
It rains on the umbrellas here,
And on the ships at sea.

Pirate Story

Three of us afloat in the meadow by the swing,
Three of us aboard in the basket on the lawn.
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, today that we're afloat,
Careful 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 fleet of ships rowing on the sea—
Cattle on the meadow are charging with a roar!
Quick, and we'll escape them, they're as wild as they can be,
The gate is the harbor and the garden is the shore.

Foreign Lands

Up into the cherry tree
Who should climb but little me?
I held the trunk with both my hands
And looked out on foreign lands.

I saw the garden next door lie,
Covered with flowers, before my eye,
And many pleasant places more
That I had never seen before.

I saw the winding river pass
And be the sky's blue looking-glass;
The dusty roads go up and down
With people walking in to town.

If I could find a taller 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 fairyland,
Where all the children dine at five,
And all the toys come alive.

Windy Nights

Whenever the moon and stars are gone,
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?

Whenever the trees are crying loud,
And ships are tossed at sea,
By, on the road, low and loud,
By at the gallop goes he.
By at the gallop he goes, and then
By he comes back at the gallop again.

Travel

I should like to rise and go
Where the golden apples grow;—
Where below another sky
Parrot islands sit in the sea,
And, watched by cockatoos and goats,
Lonely sailors building boats;—
Where in sunshine reaching out
Eastern cities, miles about,
Have mosques (Muslim houses of worship) and tall towers
Among sandy gardens set,
And rich goods from near and far
Hang for sale in the marketplace;—
Where the Great Wall of China goes,
And on one side the desert blows,
And with bell and voice and drum,
Cities on the other hum;—
Where are forests, hot as fire,
Wide as England, tall as a spire (church tower),
Full of apes and coconuts
And the huts of hunters;—
Where the bumpy crocodile
Lies and blinks in the Nile River,
And the red flamingo flies
Hunting fish before his eyes;—
Where in jungles, near and far,
Man-eating tigers are,
Lying close and listening well
In case the hunters draw near,

Or a traveler goes by
Riding in a covered carrying-chair;—
Where among the desert sands
Some empty city stands,
All its children, servants and princes,
Grown to adults 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 group of camels crossing the desert;
Light a fire in the dark
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.

Singing

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.

Looking Forward

When I am grown to be an adult
I shall be very proud and great,
And tell the other girls and boys
Not to touch my toys.

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 sailing on the waves.

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 sailing on, until 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.

Where Go the Boats?

Dark brown is the river,
Golden is the sand.
It flows along forever,
With trees on either hand.

Green leaves floating,
Castles of the foam,
Boats of mine sailing—
Where will they 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.

Auntie's Skirts

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

The Land of Counterpane

When I was sick and lay in 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 toy soldiers go,
With different uniforms and drills,
Among the bedsheets, 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 built cities all about.

I was the giant great and still
That sits upon the pillow-hill,
And sees before him, valley and plain,
The pleasant land of counterpane (a bed cover).

The Land of Nod

From breakfast on through all the day
At home among my friends I stay,
But every night I go far away
Into the land of Nod (the land of sleep).

All by myself I have to go,
With none to tell me what to do—
All alone beside the streams
And up the mountain-sides of dreams.

The strangest things are there for me,
Both things to eat and things to see,
And many frightening sights far off
Till morning in the land of Nod.