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CheerfulRobert Louis Stevenson

Flower God, God Of The Spring

FLOWER god, god of the spring, beautiful, bountiful, Cold-dyed shield in the sky, lover of versicles, Here I wander in April Cold, grey-headed; and still to my Heart, Spring comes with a bound, Spring the deliverer, Spring, song-leader in woods, chorally resonant; Spring, flower-planter in meadows, Child-conductor in willowy Fields deep dotted with bloom, daisies and crocuses: Here that child from his heart drinks of eternity: O child, happy are children! She still smiles on their innocence, She, dear mother in God, fostering violets, Fills earth full of her scents, voices and violins: Thus one cunning in music Wakes old chords in the memory:
CheerfulRobert Louis Stevenson

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.
CheerfulRobert Louis Stevenson

Summer Sun

Great is the sun, and wide he goes Through empty heaven with 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.
CheerfulRobert Louis Stevenson

The Angler Rose, He Took His Rod

THE angler rose, he took his rod, He kneeled and made his prayers to God. The living God sat overhead: The angler tripped, the eels were fed
CheerfulRobert Louis Stevenson

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 turtle 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 upon the foam, But I am safe and live at home.
CheerfulRobert Louis Stevenson

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.
CheerfulRobert Louis Stevenson

Spring Carol

WHEN loud by landside streamlets gush, And clear in the greenwood quires the thrush, With sun on the meadows And songs in the shadows Comes again to me The gift of the tongues of the lea, The gift of the tongues of meadows. Straightway my olden heart returns And dances with the dancing burns; It sings with the sparrows; To the rain and the (grimy) barrows Sings my heart aloud - To the silver-bellied cloud, To the silver rainy arrows. It bears the song of the skylark down, And it hears the singing of the town;
CheerfulRobert Louis Stevenson

Happy Thought

The world is so full of a number of things, I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings.
CheerfulRobert Louis Stevenson

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!
CheerfulRobert Louis Stevenson

Away With Funeral Music

AWAY with funeral music - set The pipe to powerful lips - The cup of life's for him that drinks And not for him that sips.

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