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,
'T is he that inhabits the caves that you dig;
'T is he when you play with your soldiers of tin
That sides with the Frenchmen and never can win.
'T is he, when at night you go off to your bed,
Bids you go to sleep and not trouble your head;
For wherever they're lying, in cupboard or shelf,
'T is he will take care of your playthings himself!
Robert Louis Stevenson
written by Robert Louis Stevenson, published on Mon 12.19.2011 at 09:07
As Daniel, bird-alone, in that far land,
Kneeling in fervent prayer, with heart-sick eyes
written by Robert Louis Stevenson, published on Sun 12.11.2011 at 20:02
We built a ship upon the stairs
All made of the back-bedroom chairs,
And filled it full of soft pillows
written by Robert Louis Stevenson, published on Fri 12.09.2011 at 22:59
Who comes to-night? We open the doors in vain.
Who comes? My bursting walls, can you contain
written by Robert Louis Stevenson, published on Thu 12.08.2011 at 06:46
CLINKUM-CLANK in the rain they ride,
Down by the braes and the grey sea-side;
Clinkum-clank by stane and cairn,
written by Robert Louis Stevenson, published on Mon 12.05.2011 at 15:38
Tall as a guardsman, pale as the east at dawn,
Who strides in strange apparel on the lawn?