Good and Bad Children — Summary

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.

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 grow up as geese and gabies, Hated, as their age increases, By their nephews and their nieces.

Show the whole poemHide the poem

Learn Poems app

Try the Learn Poems app

Everything from the website trainer, and more: new exercises, voice recording and sharing, reminders, quick review.

A grown‑up voice speaks directly to little children, pointing out how small and brittle their bones are, then lays out a simple path to a noble life: walk sedately, stay bright and quiet, eat plain food, and remain innocent and honest no matter what. Happy play in grassy places, the speaker says, is how children in olden times grew into kings and wise people. The poem then turns to the unkind, unruly children who eat too much and cry. They, we’re told, will never gain glory. Instead, they’ll turn into foolish, goose‑like adults, universally disliked even by their own family. The speaker’s tone is affectionate and teasing, not harsh, as if a favourite uncle is passing down age‑old wisdom with a wink. The mood is whimsical and old‑fashioned, like a nursery rhyme that dresses a gentle moral in playful exaggeration. The short, bouncy lines make the warning feel like a game, leaving you smiling while you catch the point: kindness and moderation lead to happiness, while pettiness makes a person ridiculous.

More by Robert Louis Stevenson

All poems
InspiredRobert Louis Stevenson

If This Were Faith

God, if this were enough, That I see things bare to the buff And up to the buttocks in mire; That I ask nor hope nor hire,
RomanticRobert Louis Stevenson

Over The Land Is April

OVER the land is April, Over my heart a rose; Over the high, brown mountain The sound of singing goes.
InspiredRobert Louis Stevenson

Since Thou Hast Given Me This Good Hope, O God

SINCE thou hast given me this good hope, O God, That while my footsteps tread the flowery sod And the great woods embower me, and white dawn And purple even sweetly lead me on