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.
Robert Louis Stevenson
written by Robert Louis Stevenson, published on Mon 12.13.2010 at 17:04
I WHO all the winter through
Cherished other loves than you,
And kept hands with hoary policy in marriage-bed and pew;
written by Robert Louis Stevenson, published on Fri 12.03.2010 at 00:49
Some day soon this rhyming volume, if you learn with proper speed,
Little Louis Sanchez, will be given you to read.
written by Robert Louis Stevenson, published on Mon 11.22.2010 at 16:34
THE angler rose, he took his rod,
He kneeled and made his prayers to God.
The living God sat overhead:
written by Robert Louis Stevenson, published on Mon 11.22.2010 at 16:04
FOR some abiding central source of power,
Strong-smitten steady chords, ye seem to flow
And, flowing, carry virtue.Far below,
written by Robert Louis Stevenson, published on Thu 11.18.2010 at 10:40
COME, my little children, here are songs for you;
Some are short and some are long, and all, all are new.