Robert Louis Stevenson
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Title: A Child's Garden of Verses
Verse 142
Author: Robert Louis Stevenson
Illustrator: Jessie Willcox Smith
Release Date: May 26, 2008 [EBook #25609]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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A
Child's
Garden
of Verses
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
Illustrated by
Jessie Willcox Smith
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, New York
Copyright, 1905, By CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
Printed in the United
States of America
All rights reserved. No part of this book
may
be reproduced in any form without the
permission of Charles
Scribner's Sons
DD-3.64[H]
Reset March 1955
[Pg vii]
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!
[Pg
viii]
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.
[Pg ix]
THE ORIGINAL
TITLE PAGE
FOR
A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES
BY
JESSIE WILLCOX SMITH
[Pg x]
A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES
ROBERT LOVIS STEVENSON
WITH
ILLVSTRATIONS BY
JESSIE WILLCOX SMITH
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
NEW YORK
MCMV
[Pg xi]
CONTENTS
TO ALISON CUNNINGHAM
|
vii
|
BED IN SUMMER
|
3
|
A THOUGHT
|
4
|
AT THE SEA-SIDE
|
5
|
YOUNG NIGHT-THOUGHT
|
6
|
WHOLE DUTY OF CHILDREN
|
7
|
RAIN
|
7
|
PIRATE STORY
|
8
|
FOREIGN LANDS
|
9
|
WINDY NIGHTS
|
10
|
TRAVEL
|
11
|
SINGING
|
13
|
LOOKING FORWARD
|
14
|
A GOOD PLAY
|
15
|
WHERE GO THE BOATS?
|
16
|
AUNTIE'S SKIRTS
|
17
|
THE LAND OF COUNTERPANE
|
18
|
THE LAND OF NOD
|
19
|
MY SHADOW
|
20
|
SYSTEM
|
22
|
A GOOD BOY
|
23
|
ESCAPE AT BEDTIME
|
24
|
MARCHING SONG
|
25
|
[Pg xii]
|
THE COW
|
26
|
HAPPY THOUGHT
|
27
|
THE WIND
|
28
|
KEEPSAKE MILL
|
29
|
GOOD AND BAD CHILDREN
|
31
|
FOREIGN CHILDREN
|
33
|
THE SUN TRAVELS
|
35
|
THE LAMPLIGHTER
|
36
|
MY BED IS A BOAT
|
37
|
THE MOON
|
39
|
THE SWING
|
40
|
TIME TO RISE
|
41
|
LOOKING-GLASS RIVER
|
42
|
FAIRY BREAD
|
44
|
FROM A RAILWAY CARRIAGE
|
45
|
WINTER-TIME
|
46
|
THE HAYLOFT
|
47
|
FAREWELL TO THE FARM
|
49
|
NORTH-WEST PASSAGE
|
50
|
1. Good-Night
|
50
|
2. Shadow March
|
51
|
3. In Port
|
52
|
THE CHILD ALONE
|
THE UNSEEN PLAYMATE
|
57
|
MY SHIP AND I
|
59
|
MY KINGDOM
|
61
|
[Pg
xiii]
|
PICTURE-BOOKS IN WINTER
|
63
|
MY TREASURES
|
65
|
BLOCK CITY
|
67
|
THE LAND OF STORY-BOOKS
|
69
|
ARMIES IN THE FIRE
|
71
|
THE LITTLE LAND
|
73
|
GARDEN DAYS
|
NIGHT AND DAY
|
79
|
NEST EGGS
|
82
|
THE FLOWERS
|
84
|
SUMMER SUN
|
86
|
THE DUMB SOLDIER
|
87
|
AUTUMN FIRES
|
89
|
THE GARDENER
|
90
|
HISTORICAL ASSOCIATIONS
|
92
|
ENVOYS
|
TO WILLIE AND HENRIETTA
|
97
|
TO MY MOTHER
|
98
|
TO AUNTIE
|
99
|
TO MINNIE
|
100
|
TO MY NAME-CHILD
|
103
|
TO ANY READER
|
105
|
[Pg xv]
FROM DRAWINGS IN COLOR
BY JESSIE WILLCOX SMITH
|
|
FACING PAGE
|
Bed in Summer
|
4
|
|
In winter I get up at night And dress by
yellow candle-light.
|
Foreign Lands
|
10
|
|
I held the trunk with both my hands And
looked abroad on foreign lands.
|
The Land of Counterpane
|
18
|
|
I was the giant great and still That
sits upon the pillow-hill,
|
My Shadow
|
20
|
|
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!
|
Foreign Children
|
34
|
|
Little Indian, Sioux or Crow, Little
frosty Eskimo, Little Turk or Japanee, Oh!
don't you wish that you were me?
|
Looking-glass River
|
42
|
|
We can see our coloured faces Floating
on the shaken pool
|
[Pg xvi]
|
The Hayloft
|
48
|
|
Oh, what a joy to clamber there, Oh,
what a place for play, With the
sweet, the dim, the dusty air, The
happy hills of hay!
|
North-west Passage
|
50
|
|
And face with an undaunted tread The
long black passage up to bed.
|
Picture-books in Winter
|
64
|
|
Water now is turned to stone Nurse and I
can walk upon; Still we find the flowing brooks In the
picture story-books.
|
The Little Land
|
74
|
|
I have just to shut my eyes To go
sailing through the skies— To go sailing far away To
the pleasant Land of Play;
|
The Flowers
|
84
|
|
All the names I know from nurse: Gardener's
garters, Shepherd's purse, Bachelor's buttons, Lady's
smock, And the Lady Hollyhock.
|
To Auntie
|
100
|
|
What did the other children do? And what
were childhood, wanting you?
|
[Pg 1]
A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES
[Pg 2]
[Pg 3]
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?
[Pg 4]
[Pg 5]
BED IN SUMMER
[Pg 6]
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.
[Pg 7]
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.
[Pg 8]
WHOLE DUTY OF CHILDREN
A child should always say what's true
And
speak when he is spoken to,
And behave mannerly at 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.
[Pg 9]
PIRATE STORY
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 harbour and the garden is the shore.
[Pg 10]
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 in to 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.
WINDY NIGHTS
Whenever the moon and stars are set,
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 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.
FOREIGN LANDS
[Pg 11]
TRAVEL
I should like to rise and go
Where the golden
apples grow;—
Where below another sky
Parrot islands
anchored lie,
And, watched by cockatoos and goats,
Lonely
Crusoes building boats;—
Where in sunshine reaching out
Eastern
cities, miles about,
Are with mosque and minaret
Among sandy
gardens set,
And the rich goods from near and far
Hang for
sale in the bazaar;—
Where the Great Wall round 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,
Full
of apes and cocoa-nuts
And the negro hunters' huts;—
Where
the knotty crocodile
Lies and blinks in the Nile,
And the
red flamingo flies
Hunting fish before his eyes;—
Where
in jungles, near and far,
Man-devouring tigers are,
Lying
close and giving ear
Lest the hunt be drawing near,
[Pg 13]
Or a comer-by be seen
Swinging in a palanquin;—
Where
among the desert sands
Some deserted city stands,
All its
children, sweep and prince,
Grown to manhood 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 camel caravan;
Light a fire
in the gloom
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.
[Pg 14]
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.
[Pg 15]
LOOKING FORWARD
When I am grown to man's estate
I shall be
very proud and great,
And tell the other girls and boys
Not
to meddle with my toys.
[Pg 16]
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.
[Pg 17]
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.
[Pg 18]
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 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.
THE LAND OF COUNTERPANE
[Pg 19]
THE LAND OF NOD
From breakfast on through all the day
At home
among my friends I stay,
But every night I go abroad
Afar into
the land of Nod.
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
abroad
Till morning in the land of Nod.
Try as I like to find the way,
I never can get
back by day,
Nor can remember plain and clear
The curious
music that I hear.
[Pg 20]
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.
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!
MY SHADOW
[Pg 21]
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.
[Pg 23]
SYSTEM
Every night my prayers I say,
And get my dinner
every day;
And every day that I've been good,
I get an orange
after food.
The child that is not clean and neat,
With lots of
toys and things to eat,
He is a naughty child, I'm sure—
Or
else his dear papa is poor.
[Pg 24]
A GOOD BOY
I woke before the morning, I was happy all the day,
I
never said an ugly word, but smiled and stuck to play.
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 be off to sleepsin-by, and not forget my
prayer.
I know that, till to-morrow 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.
[Pg 25]
ESCAPE AT BEDTIME
The lights from the parlour and kitchen shone out
Through
the blinds and the windows and bars;
And
high overhead 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.
[Pg 26]
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.
[Pg 27]
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.
[Pg 28]
HAPPY THOUGHT
The world is so full of a number of things,
I'm
sure we should all be as happy as kings.
[Pg 29]
THE WIND
I saw you toss the kites on high
And blow the
birds about the sky;
And all around I heard you pass,
Like
ladies' skirts across the grass—
O
wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!
I saw the different things you did,
But always
you yourself you hid.
I felt you push, I heard you call,
I
could not see yourself at all—
O
wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!
O you that are so strong and cold,
O blower, are
you young or old?
Are you a beast of field and tree,
Or just a
stronger child than me?
O wind, a-blowing
all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!
[Pg 30]
KEEPSAKE MILL
Over the borders, a sin without pardon,
Breaking
the branches and crawling below,
Out
through the breach in the wall of the garden,
Down
by the banks of the river, we go.
Here is the mill with the humming of thunder,
Here
is the weir with the wonder of foam,
Here
is the sluice with the race running under—
Marvellous
places, though handy to home!
Sounds of the village grow stiller and stiller,
Stiller
the note of the birds on the hill;
Dusty
and dim are the eyes of the miller,
Deaf
are his ears with the moil of the mill.
Years may go by, and the wheel in the river
Wheel
as it wheels for us, children, to-day,
Wheel
and keep roaring and foaming for ever
Long
after all of the boys are away.
Home from the Indies and home from the ocean,
Heroes
and soldiers we all shall come home;
Still
we shall find the old mill wheel in motion,
Turning
and churning that river to foam.
[Pg
31]
You with the bean that I gave when we quarrelled,
I
with your marble of Saturday last,
Honoured
and old and all gaily apparelled,
Here we
shall meet and remember the past.
[Pg 32]
GOOD AND BAD CHILDREN
Children, you are very little,
And your bones
are very brittle;
If you would grow great and stately,
You
must try to walk sedately.
You must still be bright and quiet,
And content
with simple diet;
And remain, through all bewild'ring,
Innocent
and honest children.
Happy hearts and happy faces,
Happy play in
grassy places—
That was how, in ancient ages,
Children
grew to kings and sages.
[Pg
33]
But the unkind and the unruly,
And the sort who
eat unduly,
They must never hope for glory—
Theirs is
quite a different story!
Cruel children, crying babies,
All grew up as
geese and gabies,
Hated, as their age increases,
By their
nephews and their nieces.
[Pg 34]
FOREIGN CHILDREN
Little Indian, Sioux or Crow,
Little frosty
Eskimo,
Little Turk or Japanee,
Oh! don't you wish that you
were me?
You have seen the scarlet trees
And the lions
over seas;
You have eaten ostrich eggs,
And turned the turtles
off their legs.
Such a life is very fine,
But it's not so nice
as mine:
You must often, as you trod,
Have wearied not
to be abroad.
You have curious things to eat,
I am fed on
proper meat;
You must dwell beyond the foam,
But I am safe and
live at home.
Little Indian, Sioux or
Crow,
Little frosty Eskimo,
Little Turk or Japanee,
Oh!
don't you wish that you were me?
FOREIGN CHILDREN
[Pg 35]
THE SUN TRAVELS
The sun is not a-bed, when I
At night upon my
pillow lie;
Still round the earth his way he takes,
And
morning after morning makes.
While here at home, in shining day,
We round the
sunny garden play,
Each little Indian sleepy-head
Is being
kissed and put to bed.
And when at eve I rise from tea,
Day dawns
beyond the Atlantic Sea;
And all the children in the West
Are
getting up and being dressed.
[Pg 37]
THE LAMPLIGHTER
My tea is nearly ready and the sun has left the sky.
It's
time to take the window to see Leerie going by;
For every night
at teatime and before you take your seat,
With lantern and with
ladder he comes posting up the street.
Now Tom would be a driver and Maria go to sea,
And
my papa's a banker and as rich as he can be;
But I, when I am
stronger and can choose what I'm to do,
O Leerie, I'll go round
at night and light the lamps with you!
For we are very lucky, with a lamp before the door,
And
Leerie stops to light it as he lights so many more;
And oh!
before you hurry by with ladder and with light;
O Leerie, see a
little child and nod to him tonight!
[Pg 38]
MY BED IS A BOAT
My bed is like a little boat;
Nurse
helps me in when I embark;
She girds me
in my sailor's coat
And starts me in the
dark.
At night, I go on board and say
Good-night
to all my friends on shore;
I shut my
eyes and sail away
And see and hear no
more.
And sometimes things to bed I take,
As
prudent sailors have to do;
Perhaps a
slice of wedding-cake,
Perhaps a toy or
two.
[Pg
39]
All night across the dark we steer;
But
when the day returns at last,
Safe in my
room, beside the pier,
I find my vessel
fast.
[Pg 40]
THE MOON
The moon has a face like the clock in the hall;
She
shines on thieves on the garden wall,
On streets and field and
harbour 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 arise.
[Pg 41]
THE SWING
How do you like to go up in a swing,
Up
in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the
pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do!
Up in the air and over the wall,
Till
I can see so wide,
Rivers and trees and
cattle and all
Over the countryside—
Till I look down on the garden green,
Down
on the roof so brown—
Up in the air
I go flying again,
Up in the air and down!
[Pg 42]
TIME TO RISE
A birdie with a yellow bill
Hopped upon the
window sill,
Cocked his shining eye and said:
"Ain't you
'shamed, you sleepy-head!"
[Pg 43]
LOOKING-GLASS RIVER
Smooth it glides upon its travel,
Here
a wimple, there a gleam—
O the
clean gravel!
O the smooth stream!
Sailing blossoms, silver fishes,
Paven
pools as clear as air—
How a child
wishes
To live down there!
We can see our coloured faces
Floating
on the shaken pool
Down in cool places,
Dim
and very cool;
Till a wind or water wrinkle,
Dipping
marten, plumping trout,
Spreads in a
twinkle
And blots all out.
[Pg
44]
See the rings pursue each other;
All
below grows black as night,
Just as if
mother
Had blown out the light!
Patience, children, just a minute—
See
the spreading circles die;
The stream and
all in it
Will clear by-and-by.
[Pg 45]
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.
[Pg 46]
FROM A RAILWAY CARRIAGE
Faster than fairies, faster than witches,
Bridges
and houses, hedges and ditches;
And charging along like troops in
a battle
All through the meadows the horses and cattle:
All of
the sights of the hill and the plain
Fly as thick as driving rain;
And
ever again, in the wink of an eye,
Painted stations whistle by.
Here
is a child who clambers and scrambles,
All by himself and
gathering brambles;
Here is a tramp who stands and gazes;
And
there is the green for stringing the daisies
Here is a cart run
away in the road
Lumping along with man and load;
And here is
a mill, and there is a river:
Each a glimpse and gone for ever!
[Pg 47]
WINTER-TIME
Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,
A frosty, fiery
sleepy-head;
Blinks but an hour or two; and then,
A blood-red
orange, sets again.
Before the stars have left the skies,
At morning
in the dark I rise;
And shivering in my nakedness,
By the cold
candle, bathe and dress.
Close by the jolly fire I sit
To warm my frozen
bones a bit;
Or with a reindeer-sled, explore
The colder
countries round the door.
When to go out, my nurse doth wrap
Me in my
comforter and cap;
The cold wind burns my face, and blows
Its
frosty pepper up my nose.
Black are my steps on silver sod;
Thick blows my
frosty breath abroad;
And tree and house, and hill and lake,
Are
frosted like a wedding-cake.
[Pg 48]
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.
Those green and sweetly smelling crops
They
led in waggons 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!
Oh, what a joy to clamber there,
Oh,
what a place for play,
With the sweet,
the dim, the dusty air,
The happy hills
of hay!
THE HAYLOFT
[Pg 49]
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 swang 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!
[Pg 50]
NORTH-WEST PASSAGE
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
[Pg 51]
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.
[Pg
53]
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.
[Pg
54]
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.
[Pg 55]
[Pg 57]
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!
[Pg
59]
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!
[Pg 60]
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.
[Pg
61]
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.
[Pg 62]
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.
[Pg
63]
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!
[Pg 64]
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?
[Pg 65]
PICTURE-BOOKS IN WINTER
[Pg 66]
MY TREASURES
These nuts, that I keep in the back of the nest
Where
all my lead soldiers are lying at rest,
Were gathered in autumn
by nursie and me
In a wood with a well by the side of the sea.
This whistle we made (and how clearly it sounds!)
By
the side of a field at the end of the grounds.
Of a branch of a
plane, with a knife of my own,
It was nursie who made it, and
nursie alone!
The stone, with the white and the yellow and grey,
We
discovered I cannot tell how far away;
And I carried it
back although weary and cold,
For though father denies it, I'm
sure it is gold.
[Pg
67]
But of all my treasures the last is the king,
For
there's very few children possess such a thing;
And that is a
chisel, both handle and blade,
Which a man who was really a
carpenter made.
[Pg 68]
BLOCK CITY
What are you able to build with your blocks?
Castles
and palaces, temples and docks.
Rain may keep raining, and others
go roam,
But I can be happy and building at home.
Let the sofa be mountains, the carpet be sea,
There
I'll establish a city for me:
A kirk and a mill and a palace
beside,
And a harbour as well where my vessels may ride.
Great is the palace with pillar and wall,
A sort
of a tower on the top of it all,
And steps coming down in an
orderly way
To where my toy vessels lie safe in the bay.
[Pg
69]
This one is sailing and that one is moored:
Hark
to the song of the sailors on board!
And see, on the steps of my
palace, the kings
Coming and going with presents and things!
Now I have done with it, down let it go!
All in
a moment the town is laid low.
Block upon block lying scattered
and free,
What is there left of my town by the sea?
Yet as I saw it, I see it again,
The kirk and
the palace, the ships and the men,
And as long as I live and
where'er I may be,
I'll always remember my town by the sea.
[Pg 70]
THE LAND OF STORY-BOOKS
At evening when the lamp is lit,
Around the fire
my parents sit;
They sit at home and talk and sing,
And do not
play at anything.
Now, with my little gun, I crawl
All in the dark
along the wall,
And follow round the forest track
Away behind
the sofa back.
There, in the night, where none can spy,
All in
my hunter's camp I lie,
And play at books that I have read
Till
it is time to go to bed.
These are the hills, these are the woods,
These
are my starry solitudes;
And there the river by whose brink
The
roaring lions come to drink.
[Pg
71]
I see the others far away
As if in firelit camp
they lay,
And I, like to an Indian scout,
Around their party
prowled about.
So, when my nurse comes in for me,
Home I return
across the sea,
And go to bed with backward looks
At my dear
land of Story-books.
[Pg 72]
ARMIES IN THE FIRE
The lamps now glitter down the street;
Faintly
sound the falling feet;
And the blue even slowly falls
About
the garden trees and walls.
Now in the falling of the gloom
The red fire
paints the empty room:
And warmly on the roof it looks,
And
flickers on the backs of books.
Armies march by tower and spire
Of cities
blazing, in the fire;—
Till as I gaze with staring eyes,
The
armies fade, the lustre dies.
Then once again the glow returns;
Again the
phantom city burns;
And down the red-hot valley, lo!
The
phantom armies marching go!
[Pg
73]
Blinking embers, tell me true
Where are those
armies marching to,
And what the burning city is
That crumbles
in your furnaces!
[Pg 74]
THE LITTLE LAND
When at home alone I sit,
And am very tired of
it,
I have just to shut my eyes
To go sailing through the
skies—
To go sailing far away
To the pleasant Land of
Play;
To the fairy land afar
Where the Little People are;
Where
the clover-tops are trees,
And the rain-pools are the seas,
And
the leaves, like little ships,
Sail about on tiny trips;
And
above the daisy tree
Through the grasses,
High
o'erhead the Bumble Bee
Hums and passes.
In that forest to and fro
I can wander, I can go;
See
the spider and the fly,
And the ants go marching by,
Carrying
parcels with their feet
Down the green and grassy street.
I
can in the sorrel sit
Where the ladybird alit.
I can climb the
jointed grass
And on high
See
the greater swallows pass
In the sky,
And
the round sun rolling by
Heeding no such things as I.
Through that forest I can pass
Till, as in a
looking-glass,
Humming fly and daisy tree
And my tiny self I
see,
Painted very clear and neat
On the rain-pool at my feet.
Should
a leaflet come to land
Drifting near to where I stand,
Straight
I'll board that tiny boat
Round the rain-pool sea to float.
[Pg
75]
Little thoughtful creatures sit
On the grassy
coasts of it;
Little things with lovely eyes
See me sailing
with surprise.
Some are clad in armour green—
(These
have sure to battle been!)—
Some are pied with ev'ry hue,
Black
and crimson, gold and blue;
Some have wings and swift are gone;—
But
they all look kindly on.
[Pg 76]
THE LITTLE LAND
When my eyes I once again
Open, and see all things
plain:
High bare walls, great bare floor;
Great
big knobs on drawer and door;
Great big people perched on chairs,
Stitching
tucks and mending tears,
Each a hill that I could climb,
And
talking nonsense all the time—
O dear
me,
That I could be
A sailor on the
rain-pool sea,
A climber in the clover tree,
And just come back,
a sleepy-head,
Late at night to go to bed.
[Pg 77]
[Pg 78]
[Pg 79]
NIGHT AND DAY
When the golden day is done,
Through
the closing portal,
Child and garden,
flower and sun,
Vanish all things mortal.
As the blinding shadows fall
As
the rays diminish,
Under evening's cloak,
they all
Roll away and vanish.
Garden darkened, daisy shut,
Child
in bed, they slumber—
Glow-worm in
the highway rut,
Mice among the lumber.
In the darkness houses shine,
Parents
move with candles;
Till on all, the night
divine
Turns the bedroom handles.
[Pg
81]
Till at last the day begins
In
the east a-breaking,
In the hedges and
the whins
Sleeping birds a-waking.
In the darkness shapes of things,
Houses,
trees and hedges,
Clearer grow; and
sparrow's wings
Beat on window ledges.
These shall wake the yawning maid;
She
the door shall open—
Finding dew on
garden glade
And the morning broken.
There my garden grows again
Green
and rosy painted,
As at eve behind the
pane
From my eyes it fainted.
Just as it was shut away,
Toy-like,
in the even,
Here I see it glow with day
Under
glowing heaven.
Every path and every plot,
Every
bush of roses,
Every blue forget-me-not
Where
the dew reposes.
[Pg
82]
"Up!" they cry, "the day is come
On
the smiling valleys:
We have beat the
morning drum;
Playmate, join your allies!"
[Pg 83]
NEST EGGS
Birds all the sunny day
Flutter
and quarrel
Here in the arbour-like
Tent
of the laurel.
Here in the fork
The
brown nest is seated;
Four little blue
eggs
The mother keeps heated.
While we stand watching her
Staring
like gabies,
Safe in each egg are the
Bird's
little babies.
Soon the frail eggs they shall
Chip,
and upspringing
Make all the April woods
Merry
with singing.
[Pg
84]
Younger than we are,
O
children, and frailer,
Soon in blue air
they'll be,
Singer and sailor.
We, so much older,
Taller
and stronger,
We shall look down on the
Birdies
no longer.
They shall go flying
With
musical speeches
High over head in the
Tops
of the beeches.
In spite of our wisdom
And
sensible talking,
We on our feet must go
Plodding
and walking.
THE FLOWERS
All the names I know from nurse:
Gardener's
garters, Shepherd's purse,
Bachelor's buttons, Lady's smock,
And
the Lady Hollyhock.
Fairy places, fairy things,
Fairy woods where
the wild bee wings,
Tiny trees for tiny dames—
These
must all be fairy names!
Tiny woods below whose boughs
Shady fairies
weave a house;
Tiny tree-tops, rose or thyme,
Where the braver
fairies climb!
[Pg 85]
THE FLOWERS
[Pg 86]
Fair are grown-up people's trees,
But the
fairest woods are these;
Where, if I were not so tall,
I
should live for good and all.
[Pg 87]
SUMMER SUN
Great is the sun, and wide he goes
Through empty
heaven without repose;
And in the blue and glowing days
More
thick than rain he showers his rays.
Though closer still the blinds we pull
To keep
the shady parlour cool,
Yet he will find a chink or two
To
slip his golden fingers through.
The dusty attic spider-clad
He, through the
keyhole, maketh glad;
And through the broken edge of tiles
Into
the laddered hay-loft smiles.
Meantime his golden face around
He bares to all
the garden ground,
And sheds a warm and glittering look
Among
the ivy's inmost nook.
Above the hills, along the blue,
Round the
bright air with footing true,
To please the child, to paint the
rose,
The gardener of the World, he goes.
[Pg 88]
THE DUMB SOLDIER
When the grass was closely mown,
Walking on the
lawn alone,
In the turf a hole I found,
And hid a soldier
underground.
Spring and daisies came apace;
Grasses hide my
hiding place;
Grasses run like a green sea
O'er the lawn up to
my knee.
Under grass alone he lies,
Looking up with
leaden eyes,
Scarlet coat and pointed gun,
To the stars and to
the sun.
When the grass is ripe like grain,
When the
scythe is stoned again,
When the lawn is shaven clear,
Then my
hole shall reappear.
I shall find him, never fear,
I shall find my
grenadier;
But for all that's gone and come,
I shall find my
soldier dumb.
He has lived, a little thing,
In the grassy
woods of spring;
Done, if he could tell me true,
Just as I
should like to do.
[Pg
89]
He has seen the starry hours
And the springing
of the flowers;
And the fairy things that pass
In the forests
of the grass.
In the silence he has heard
Talking bee and
ladybird,
And the butterfly has flown
O'er him as he lay alone.
Not a word will he disclose,
Not a word of all
he knows.
I must lay him on the shelf,
And make up the tale
myself.
[Pg 90]
AUTUMN FIRES
In the other gardens
And
all up the vale,
From the autumn bonfires
See
the smoke trail!
Pleasant summer over
And
all the summer flowers,
The red fire
blazes,
The grey smoke towers.
Sing a song of seasons!
Something
bright in all!
Flowers in the summer,
Fires
in the fall!
[Pg 91]
THE GARDENER
The gardener does not love to talk,
He makes me
keep the gravel walk;
And when he puts his tools away,
He
locks the door and takes the key.
Away behind the currant row,
Where no one else
but cook may go,
Far in the plots, I see him dig,
Old and
serious, brown and big.
He digs the flowers, green, red, and blue,
Nor
wishes to be spoken to.
He digs the flowers and cuts the hay,
And
never seems to want to play.
[Pg
92]
Silly gardener! summer goes,
And winter comes
with pinching toes,
When in the garden bare and brown
You must
lay your barrow down.
Well now, and while the summer stays,
To profit
by these garden days
O how much wiser you would be
To play at
Indian wars with me!
[Pg 93]
HISTORICAL ASSOCIATIONS
Dear Uncle Jim, this garden ground
That now you
smoke your pipe around.
Has seen immortal actions done
And
valiant battles lost and won.
Here we had best on tip-toe tread,
While I for
safety march ahead,
For this is that enchanted ground
Where
all who loiter slumber sound.
[Pg
94]
Here is the sea, here is the sand,
Here is
simple Shepherd's Land,
Here are the fairy hollyhocks,
And
there are Ali Baba's rocks.
But yonder, see! apart and high,
Frozen Siberia
lies; where I,
With Robert Bruce and William Tell,
Was bound
by an enchanter's spell.
[Pg 95]
ENVOYS
[Pg 96]
TO WILLIE AND HENRIETTA
If two may read aright
These rhymes of old
delight
And house and garden play,
You
too, my cousins, and you only, may.
You in a garden green
With me were king and
queen,
Were hunter, soldier, tar,
And
all the thousand things that children are.
Now in the elders' seat
We rest with quiet feet,
And
from the window-bay
We watch the
children, our successors, play.
"Time was," the golden head
Irrevocably
said;
But time which none can bind,
While
flowing fast away, leaves love behind.
[Pg 99]
TO MY MOTHER
You too, my mother, read my rhymes
For love of
unforgotten times,
And you may chance to hear once more
The
little feet along the floor.
TO AUNTIE
Chief of our aunts—not only I,
But
all your dozen of nurselings cry—
What did the other
children do?
And what were childhood, wanting you?
[Pg 100]
TO AUNTIE
TO MINNIE
The red room with the giant bed
Where none but
elders laid their head;
The little room where you and I
Did
for awhile together lie
And, simple suitor, I your hand
In
decent marriage did demand;
The great day nursery, best of all,
With
pictures pasted on the wall
And leaves upon the blind
A
pleasant room wherein to wake
And hear the leafy garden shake
And
rustle in the wind—
And pleasant there to lie in bed
And
see the pictures overhead—
The wars about Sebastopol,
The
grinning guns along the wall,
The daring escalade,
The
plunging ships, the bleating sheep,
The happy children ankle-deep
And
laughing as they wade;
All these are vanished clean away,
And
the old manse is changed to-day;
It wears an altered face
[Pg
101]
And shields a stranger race.
The river, on from
mill to mill,
Flows past our childhood's garden still;
But ah!
we children never more
Shall watch it from the water-door.
Below
the yew—it still is there—
Our phantom voices haunt
the air
As we were still at play,
And I can hear them call and
say:
"How far is it to Babylon?"
[Pg
102]
Ah, far enough, my dear,
Far, far enough from
here—
Yet you have farther gone!
"Can I get
there by candlelight?"
So goes the old refrain.
I do
not know—perchance you might—
But only, children,
hear it right,
Ah, never to return again!
The eternal dawn,
beyond a doubt,
Shall break on hill and plain,
And put all
stars and candles out
Ere we be young again.
[Pg
103]
To you in distant India, these
I send across the
seas,
Nor count it far across.
For which of us forgets
The
Indian cabinets,
The bones of antelope, the wings of albatross,
The
pied and painted birds and beans,
The junks and bangles, beads
and screens,
The gods and sacred bells,
And the loud-humming,
twisting shells!
The level of the parlour floor
Was honest,
homely, Scottish shore;
But when we climbed upon a chair,
Behold
the gorgeous East was there!
Be this a fable; and behold
Me in
the parlour as of old,
And Minnie just above me set
In the
quaint Indian cabinet!
Smiling and kind, you grace a shelf
Too
high for me to reach myself.
Reach down a hand, my dear, and take
These
rhymes for old acquaintance' sake!
[Pg 104]
TO MY NAME-CHILD
1
Some day soon this rhyming volume, if you learn
with proper speed,
Little Louis Sanchez, will be given you to
read.
Then shall you discover, that your name was printed down
By
the English printers, long before, in London town.
In the great and busy city where the East and West
are met,
All the little letters did the English printer set;
While
you thought of nothing, and were still too young to play,
Foreign
people thought of you in places far away.
Ay, and while you slept, a baby, over all the
English lands
Other little children took the volume in their
hands;
Other children questioned, in their homes across the seas:
Who
was little Louis, won't you tell us, mother, please?
[Pg 105]
2
Now that you have spelt your lesson, lay it down
and go and play,
Seeking shells and seaweed on the sands of
Monterey,
Watching all the mighty whalebones, lying buried by the
breeze,
Tiny sandpipers, and the huge Pacific seas.
And remember in your playing, as the sea-fog rolls
to you,
Long ere you could read it, how I told you what to do;
And
that while you thought of no one, nearly half the world away
Some
one thought of Louis on the beach of Monterey!
TO ANY READER
As from the house your mother sees
You playing
round the garden trees,
So you may see, if you will look
Through
the windows of this book,
Another child, far, far away,
And in
another garden, play.
But do not think you can at all,
By
knocking on the window, call
That child to hear you. He intent
Is
all on his play-business bent.
He does not hear; he will not look,
Nor
yet be lured out of this book.
For, long ago, the truth to say,
He
has grown up and gone away,
And it is but a child of air
That
lingers in the garden there.
THE SCRIBNER ILLUSTRATED CLASSICS
THE ARABIAN NIGHTS
Edited by Kate Douglas Wiggin
Illustrated
by Maxfield Parrish
THE STORY OF ROLAND
by James Baldwin
Illustrated
by Peter Hurd
THE STORY OF SIEGFRIED
by James Baldwin
Illustrated
by Peter Hurd
DRUMS
by James Boyd
Illustrated by
N. C. Wyeth
A LITTLE PRINCESS
by Frances Hodgson Burnett
Illustrated
by Ethel Franklin Betts
THE DEERSLAYER
by James Fenimore Cooper
Illustrated
by N. C. Wyeth
THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS
by James Fenimore Cooper
Illustrated
by N. C. Wyeth
ROBIN HOOD
by Paul Creswick
Illustrated
by N. C. Wyeth
THE ENCHANTED BOOK
Edited by Alice Dalgliesh
Illustrated
by Concetta Cacciola
ROBINSON CRUSOE
by Daniel Defoe
Illustrated
by N. C. Wyeth
THE CHILDREN OF DICKENS
by Charles Dickens
Edited
by Samuel McChord Crothers
Illustrated by Jessie Willcox Smith
HANS BRINKER
by Mary Mapes Dodge
Illustrated
by George W. Edwards
POEMS OF CHILDHOOD
by Eugene Field
Illustrated
by Maxfield Parrish
THE LITTLE SHEPHERD OF KINGDOM COME
by John Fox,
Jr.
Illustrated by N. C. Wyeth
GRIMM'S FAIRY TALES
Illustrated by Elenore Abbott
LONE COWBOY
by Will James
Illustrated
by the author
SMOKY
by Will James
Illustrated by
the author
WESTWARD HO!
by Charles Kingsley
Illustrated
by N. C. Wyeth
THE BOY'S KING ARTHUR
by Sidney Lanier
Illustrated
by N. C. Wyeth
THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS
by Jane Porter
Illustrated
by N. C. Wyeth
THE YEARLING
by Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings
Illustrated
by N. C. Wyeth
QUENTIN DURWARD
by Sir Walter Scott
Illustrated
by C. B. Chambers
THE CHILDREN'S BIBLE
by Henry Sherman and Charles
Kent
Illustrated by various artists
HEIDI
by Johanna Spyri
Illustrated
by Jessie Willcox Smith
A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES
by Robert Louis
Stevenson
Illustrated by Jessie Willcox Smith
THE BLACK ARROW
by Robert Louis Stevenson
Illustrated
by N. C. Wyeth
DAVID BALFOUR
by Robert Louis Stevenson
Illustrated
by N. C. Wyeth
KIDNAPPED
by Robert Louis Stevenson
Illustrated
by N. C. Wyeth
TREASURE ISLAND
by Robert Louis Stevenson
Illustrated
by N. C. Wyeth
THE MYSTERIOUS ISLAND
by Jules Verne
Illustrated
by N. C. Wyeth
TWENTY THOUSAND LEAGUES UNDER THE SEA
by Jules
Verne
Illustrated by W. J. Aylward
Transcriber's Note
These last verses of HISTORICAL ASSOCIATIONS as found in some other
editions of this book were not printed in this edition. They don't
appear to be missing scans, as the page numbering remains sequential.
There, then, awhile in chains we lay,
In wintry
dungeons, far from day;
But ris'n at length, with might and main,
Our
iron fetters burst in twain.
Then all the horns were blown in town;
And to
the ramparts clanging down,
All the giants leaped to horse
And
charged behind us through the gorse.
On we rode, the others and I,
Over the mountains
blue, and by
The Silver River, the sounding sea,
And the
robber woods of Tartary.
A thousand miles we galloped fast,
And down the
witches' lane we passed,
And rode amain, with brandished sword,
Up
to the middle, through the ford.
Last we drew rein—a weary three—
Upon
the lawn, in time for tea,
And from our steeds alighted down
Before
the gates of Babylon.
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