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19722 | (Published in 1916; Black and White illustrations by M. Sheldon)
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25608 | (Published in 1905; Single Tone illustratons by B. C. Pease)
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25609 | (Published in 1905; Illustrations in Color by J. W. Smith)
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25610 | (Published in 1895; Black and White illustrations by C.Robins)
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25611 | (Publication date unknown; Black and White illustrations)
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25617 | (Published in 1900; Illustrations in Color by Mars and Squire)
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28722 | (Published in 1919; Illustrations in Color by Maria L. Kirk)
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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
A CHILD'S
GARDEN of
VERSES
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.
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.
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"
"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 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.
The moon has a face like the clock in the hall;
She shines on thieves on the garden wall,
On streets and fields and harbor quays,
And birdies asleep in the forks of the trees.
The squalling cat and the squeaking mouse,
The howling dog by the door of the house,
The bat that lies in bed at noon,
All love to be out by the light of the moon.
But all of the things that belong to the day
Cuddle to sleep to be out of her way;
And flowers and children close their eyes
Till up in the morning the sun shall rise.
THE COW
The friendly cow all red and white,
I love with all my heart:
She gives me cream with all her might,
To eat with apple-tart.
She wanders lowing here and there,
And yet she cannot stray,
All in the pleasant open air,
The pleasant light of day.
And blown by all the winds that pass
And wet with all the showers,
She walks among the meadow grass
And eats the meadow flowers.
FOREIGN LANDS
Up into the cherry tree
Who should climb but little me?
I held the trunk with both my hands
And looked abroad on 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.