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ContemplativeRobert Louis Stevenson

The Wind Is Without There And Howls In The Trees

THE wind is without there and howls in the trees, And the rain-flurries drum on the glass: Alone by the fireside with elbows on knees I can number the hours as they pass. Yet now, when to cheer me the crickets begin, And my pipe is just happily lit, Believe me, my friend, tho' the evening draws in, That not all uncontested I sit. Alone, did I say? O no, nowise alone With the Past sitting warm on my knee, To gossip of days that are over and gone, But still charming to her and to me. With much to be glad of and much to deplore, Yet, as these days with those we compare, Believe me, my friend, tho' the sorrows seem more They are somehow more easy to bear.
ContemplativeRobert Louis Stevenson

Good and Bad Children

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!
ContemplativeRobert Louis Stevenson

Men Are Heaven's Piers

MEN are Heaven's piers; they evermore Unwearying bear the skyey floor; Man's theatre they bear with ease, Unfrowning cariatides! I, for my wife, the sun uphold, Or, dozing, strike the seasons cold. She, on her side, in fairy-wise Deals in diviner mysteries, By spells to make the fuel burn And keep the parlour warm, to turn Water to wine, and stones to bread, By her unconquered hero-head. A naked Adam, naked Eve, Alone the primal bower we weave; Sequestered in the seas of life, A Crusoe couple, man and wife,

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