Children's Literature Part 108

284

TIME TO RISE

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

A birdie with a yellow bill Hopped upon the window-sill, c.o.c.ked his s.h.i.+ning eye and said: "Ain't you 'shamed, you sleepy-head?"

285

RAIN

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

The rain is raining all around, It falls on field and tree, It rains on the umbrellas here, And on the s.h.i.+ps at sea.

286

A GOOD PLAY

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

We built a s.h.i.+p upon the stairs All made of the back-bedroom chairs, And filled it full of sofa pillows To go a-sailing on the billows.

We took a saw and several nails, And water in the nursery pails; And Tom said, "Let us also take An apple and a slice of cake;"-- Which was enough for Tom and me To go a-sailing on, till tea.

We sailed along for days and days, And had the very best of plays; But Tom fell out and hurt his knee, So there was no one left but me.

287

THE LAMPLIGHTER

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

My tea is nearly ready and the sun has left the sky; It's time to take the window to see Leerie going by; For every night at tea-time and before you take your seat, With lantern and with ladder he comes posting up the street.

Now Tom would be a driver and Maria go to sea, And my papa's a banker and as rich as he can be; But I, when I am stronger and can choose what I'm to do, O Leerie, I'll go round at night and light the lamps with you!

For we are very lucky, with a lamp before the door, And Leerie stops to light it as he lights so many more; And O! before you hurry by with ladder and with light, O Leerie, see a little child and nod to him to-night!

288

THE LAND OF NOD

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

From breakfast on through all the day At home among my friends I stay, But every night I go abroad Afar into the land of Nod.

All by myself I have to go, With none to tell me what to do-- All alone beside the streams And up the mountain sides of dreams.

The strangest things are there for me, Both things to eat and things to see, And many frightening sights abroad, Till morning in the land of Nod.

Try as I like to find the way, I never can get back by day, Nor can remember plain and clear The curious music that I hear.

289

THE LAND OF STORY-BOOKS

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

At evening when the lamp is lit, Around the fire my parents sit; They sit at home and talk and sing, And do not play at anything.

Now, with my little gun, I crawl All in the dark along the wall, And follow round the forest track Away behind the sofa back.

There, in the night, where none can spy, All in my hunter's camp I lie, And play at books that I have read Till it is time to go to bed.

These are the hills, these are the woods, These are my starry solitudes; And there the river by whose brink The roaring lion comes to drink.

I see the others far away As if in firelit camp they lay, And I, like to an Indian scout, Around their party prowled about.

So when my nurse comes in for me, Home I return across the sea, And go to bed with backward looks At my dear Land of Story-books.

290

MY BED IS A BOAT

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

My bed is like a little boat; Nurse helps me in when I embark: She girds me in my sailor's coat And starts me in the dark.