Complete Works of Robert Louis Stevenson (Illustrated) (491 page)

1. Good-night

When the bright lamp is carried in,

The sunless hours again begin;

O’er all without, in field and lane,

The haunted night returns again.

Now we behold the embers flee

About the firelit hearth; and see

Our faces painted as we pass,

Like pictures, on the window-glass.

Must we to bed indeed? Well then,

Let us arise and go like men,

And face with an undaunted tread

The long black passage up to bed.

NORTH-WEST PASSAGE

Farewell, O brother, sister, sire!

O pleasant party round the fire!

The songs you sing, the tales you tell,

Till far to-morrow, fare ye well!

2. Shadow March

All round the house is the jet-black night;

It stares through the window-pane;

It crawls in the corners, hiding from the light,

And it moves with the moving flame.

Now my little heart goes a-beating like a drum,

With the breath of the Bogie in my hair;

And all round the candle the crooked shadows come,

And go marching along up the stair.

The shadow of the balusters, the shadow of the lamp,

The shadow of the child that goes to bed —

All the wicked shadows coming, tramp, tramp, tramp,

With the black night overhead.

3. In Port

Last, to the chamber where I lie

My fearful footsteps patter nigh,

And come from out the cold and gloom

Into my warm and cheerful room.

There, safe arrived, we turn about

To keep the coming shadows out,

And close the happy door at last

On all the perils that we past.

Then, when mamma goes by to bed,

She shall come in with tip-toe tread,

And see me lying warm and fast

And in the Land of Nod at last.

THE CHILD ALONE

THE UNSEEN PLAYMATE

When children are playing alone on the green,

In comes the playmate that never was seen.

When children are happy and lonely and good,

The Friend of the Children comes out of the wood.

Nobody heard him and nobody saw,

His is a picture you never could draw,

But he’s sure to be present, abroad or at home,

When children are happy and playing alone.

He lies in the laurels, he runs on the grass,

He sings when you tinkle the musical glass;

Whene’er you are happy and cannot tell why,

The Friend of the Children is sure to be by!

He loves to be little, he hates to be big,

‘Tis he that inhabits the caves that you dig;

‘Tis he when you play with your soldiers of tin

That sides with the Frenchmen and never can win.

‘Tis he, when at night you go off to your bed,

Bids you go to your sleep and not trouble your head;

For wherever they’re lying, in cupboard or shelf,

‘Tis he will take care of your playthings himself!

MY SHIP AND I

O it’s I that am the captain of a tidy little ship,

Of a ship that goes a-sailing on the pond;

And my ship it keeps a-turning all around and all about;

But when I’m a little older, I shall find the secret out

How to send my vessel sailing on beyond.

For I mean to grow as little as the dolly at the helm,

And the dolly I intend to come alive;

And with him beside to help me, it’s a-sailing I shall go,

It’s a-sailing on the water, when the jolly breezes blow

And the vessel goes a divie-divie-dive.

O it’s then you’ll see me sailing through the rushes and the reeds,

And you’ll hear the water singing at the prow;

For beside the dolly sailor, I’m to voyage and explore,

To land upon the island where no dolly was before,

And to fire the penny cannon in the bow.

MY KINGDOM

Down by a shining water well

I found a very little dell,

No higher than my head.

The heather and the gorse about

In summer bloom were coming out,

Some yellow and some red.

I called the little pool a sea;

The little hills were big to me;

For I am very small.

I made a boat, I made a town,

I searched the caverns up and down,

And named them one and all.

And all about was mine, I said,

The little sparrows overhead,

The little minnows too.

This was the world and I was king;

For me the bees came by to sing,

For me the swallows flew.

I played there were no deeper seas,

Nor any wider plains than these,

Nor other kings than me.

At last I heard my mother call

Out from the house at evenfall,

To call me home to tea.

And I must rise and leave my dell,

And leave my dimpled water well,

And leave my heather blooms.

Alas! and as my home I neared,

How very big my nurse appeared.

How great and cool the rooms!

PICTURE-BOOKS IN WINTER

Summer fading, winter comes —

Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs,

Window robins, winter rooks,

And the picture story-books.

Water now is turned to stone

Nurse and I can walk upon;

Still we find the flowing brooks

In the picture story-books.

All the pretty things put by,

Wait upon the children’s eye,

Sheep and shepherds, trees and crooks,

In the picture story-books.

We may see how all things are,

Seas and cities, near and far,

And the flying fairies’ looks,

In the picture story-books.

How am I to sing your praise,

Happy chimney-corner days,

Sitting safe in nursery nooks,

Reading picture story-books?