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A Child's Garden of Verses

Chapter 16: LOOKING FORWARD
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A collection of short lyrical poems written from a child's point of view, offering vivid snapshots of play, bedtime, weather, and seaside outings. Everyday scenes are transfigured into imaginative adventures—forts, pirate stories, and journeys to dreamlands—while quieter pieces explore solitude, shadow, and memory. The language favors simple rhythms, clear imagery, and gentle humor, shifting between brisk, marchlike verses and hushed lullabies. Together the poems map a child's inner life, balancing curiosity and wonder with comfort and consolation.

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Title: A Child's Garden of Verses

Author: Robert Louis Stevenson

Illustrator: E. Mars

Maud Hunt Squire

Release date: May 27, 2008 [eBook #25617]
Most recently updated: January 3, 2021

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Christine D. and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

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19722(Published in 1916; Black and White illustrations by M. Sheldon)
25608 (Published in 1905; Single Tone illustratons by B. C. Pease)
25609 (Published in 1905; Illustrations in Color by J. W. Smith)
25610 (Published in 1895; Black and White illustrations by C.Robins)
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25617 (Published in 1900; Illustrations in Color by Mars and Squire)
28722 (Published in 1919; Illustrations in Color by Maria L. Kirk)

A CHILD'S
GARDEN
of VERSES

A Child's Garden

By ROBERT
LOUIS
STEVENSON


ILLUSTRATED by
E. MARS
AND M. H. SQUIRE

RAND McNALLY &
COMPANY
CHICAGO
NEW YORK
LONDON

Copyright, 1900, by
Robert Howard Russell
Copyright, 1902, by
Rand McNally & Company
All rights reserved
Edition of 1928

Made in U.S.A.


BY WAY OF INTRODUCTION

Robert Lewis Balfour Stevenson, or Robert Louis Stevenson, as the world knows him, was still a boy when he published this rare volume of "A Child's Garden of Verses," although by the calendar he was thirty-five years old. You and I have sighed, no doubt, to be a boy again, but here was one who, while he outgrew his knickerbockers, never outgrew the quick sympathy, the brave heart, the fresh outlook, the confident faith and buoyant spirit of the little Scotch boy who roamed the hills 'round Edinburgh. Better than any man of any time he was able to enter into the heart of a boy, to view things with a boy's eyes, and to write of them in simple verse, touched with the warmth and color of his rich imagination. In these "Verses" he writes as a child rather than about children, and in this lies much of the charm which they possess for little readers. There is in them the surprise of reality, the beauty of a simple rhythm, and the mysterious flavor of magic that grips a boy's heart and will not let him go until the book has become a part of him. Surely this is a rare quality in schoolbooks.

The Stevensons had been famous engineers for more than a hundred years, building lighthouses along the Scottish coast, and it was natural that his father should have expected Robert Louis to follow in the family footsteps. But the slim boy with brown eyes, who at eight had written a "History of Moses," and illustrated it with his own pen; who was slow to learn from books, but quick to understand things that he saw and felt; the boy who carried a volume of history in one pocket and a notebook in another, had other plans for himself, and even his father came to see the wisdom of his son's choice of a literary life. As early as 1873, when only twenty-three years old, Stevenson was ordered south for the winter by his physician, to ward off impending consumption. For more than twenty years, or until his death in Samoa late in 1894, he was never far from this pursuing enemy. It followed him over tossing seas and through many lands as he journeyed in search of health; yet through all these years he carried a brave and happy heart, and wrote at the end this Requiem, the last three lines of which are upon his tomb on the mountain-top in Samoa;

"Under the wide and starry sky,
Dig the grave and let me lie.
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.
"This be the verse you grave for me:
Here he lies where he longed to be;
Home is the sailor, home from sea,
And the hunter home from the hill."

Robert Louis Stevenson's first book, "An Inland Voyage," was published in 1878, when he was twenty-eight years old, and is a fresh and charming account of a canoe trip up the rivers of Holland. It was during this journey that he wrote: "If we were charged so much a head for sunsets, or if God sent around a drum before the hawthorn came into flower, what a work we should make about their beauty! But these things, like good companions, stupid people early cease to observe."

The next year came his "Travels With a Donkey," which told in the same naïve style the story of his journey through the Cevennes Mountains with no other companion than a donkey, whose gait he describes as being "As much slower than a walk as a walk is slower than a run."

He first visited America in 1879, in search of health, returning in 1880 to Scotland with Mrs. Stevenson, whom he had married in California. In 1887 he came again with the hope that a dry winter in the Adirondack Mountains would stand off the hand of Death. But he was little benefited, and took up his search for health by chartering a yacht for a voyage through the South Seas. It was on this trip that he fell in love with the beauty of the scenery and the healthful climate of Samoa, and in 1890 he took up his home there, never again to leave the island except for occasional visits to Honolulu and Sydney. And when the time came for him to die, the natives, with their knives and axes cut a path up the steep mountain-side and carried him on their broad shoulders to his grave on the mountain-top.

"A Child's Garden of Verses" was first published in London in 1885, and long ago became a children's classic; yet it is now for the first time made available as a supplementary reader for the primary grades in a suitable form and at a possible price. There have been many and beautiful editions, but they have all appealed to "grown-ups" rather than to boys and girls to whom the book really belongs. To put such a book, with its simple style, its wise observations, its kindly sympathy, and fanciful humor into the hands of a boy or girl, is not only to make him happy, it is to start him on the straight path to culture.

This volume contains all the poems originally appearing under the title "A Child's Garden of Verses." The poems grouped under "The Child Alone," "Garden Days," and "Envoys" have been omitted, as many of them are too philosophical to be understood by children in the primary grades.

The illustrations in this book are used by special arrangement with Harper & Brothers of New York City, who publish the complete "Verses" in a beautiful edition suitable for the home or the library.

So with Stevenson's own words the book is yours:

"Go little book, and wish to all,
Flowers in the garden, meat in the hall,
A living river by the door,
A nightingale in the sycamore."

E. O. G.

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.


PAGE
By Way of Introduction5
To Alison Cunningham8
Bed in Summer13
Young Night Thought15
Rain16
My Shadow17
Time To Rise20
At the Seaside21
Windy Nights22
Pirate Story24
Whole Duty of Children27
Foreign Lands28
System30
A Good Play32
The Land of Counterpane33
A Good Boy34
Looking Forward36
The Swing37
Good and Bad Children38
Marching Song40
Travel42
Where Go the Boats?46
Escape at Bedtime48
From a Railway Carriage50
The Wind52
Auntie's Skirts54
Happy Thought55
The Cow56
My Bed Is a Boat58
The Land of Nod60
Fairy Bread61
Keepsake Mill62
Winter-time64
Looking-glass River66
The Sun's Travels69
The Lamplighter70
Foreign Children73
The Moon74
The Hayloft77
Farewell To the Farm78
A Thought80
Singing81
North-west Passage
I. Good-night82
II. Shadow March84
III. In Port86
To My Mother88
Guide To Pronunciation89
A Word List90


A CHILD'S
GARDEN
of
VERSES

"I have to go to bed by day."

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?

MY SHADOW

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see,
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;
And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.
The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow—
Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;
For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball,
And he sometimes gets so little that there's none of him at all.

"I have a little shadow."

He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play,
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.
He stays so close beside me, he's a coward you can see;
I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!
One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.

Windy-Nights

Whenever the trees are crying aloud,
And ships are tossed at sea,
By, on the highway, 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.

"I looked abroad on foreign lands."

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 into 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.

"I was happy all the day."

A GOOD BOY

And now at last the sun is going down behind the wood,
And I am very happy, for I know that I've been good.
My bed is waiting cool and fresh, with linen smooth and fair.
And I must off to sleepsin-by, and not forget my prayer.
I know that, till tomorrow I shall see the sun arise,
No ugly dream shall fright my mind, no ugly sight my eyes.
But slumber hold me tightly till I waken in the dawn,
And hear the thrushes singing in the lilacs round the lawn.