The Moon
The moon has a face like the clock in the hall;
She shines on thieves on the garden wall,
On streets and fields 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.
Robert Louis Stevenson
Vous avez aimé cette poésie ? faites la connaître !
D'autres poésies de Robert Louis Stevenson
A Good Boy
I woke before the morning, I was happy all the day,
I...
A Good Play
We built a ship upon the stairs
All made of the...
A Thought
It is very nice to think
The world is full of meat and...
A Valentine's Song
MOTLEY I count the only wear
That suits, in this mixed...
About The Sheltered Garden Ground
ABOUT the sheltered garden ground
The trees stand...
Ad Magistrum Ludi
NOW in the sky
And on the hearth of
Now in a drawer...
Ad Martialem
GO(D) knows, my Martial, if we two could be
To enjoy our...
Ad Nepotem
O NEPOS, twice my neigh(b)our (since at home
We're door by...
Ad Olum
CALL me not rebel, though { here at every word
...
Ad Piscatorem
FOR these are sacred fishes all
Who know that lord that is...
Précédentes poésies
The Moon
I
AND, like a dying lady lean and pale,
Who...
The Invitation
BEST and brightest, come away!
Fairer far than this fair...
The Indian Serenade
I arise from dreams of thee
In the first sweet sleep of...
The Fitful Alternations of the Rain
The fitful alternations of the rain,
When the chill wind,...
The Cloud
I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,
From...
