Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

CreationEarth Nature Photos

Best Famous Robert Louis Stevenson Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Robert Louis Stevenson poems. This is a select list of the best famous Robert Louis Stevenson poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Robert Louis Stevenson poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of Robert Louis Stevenson poems.

Search for the best famous Robert Louis Stevenson poems, articles about Robert Louis Stevenson poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Robert Louis Stevenson poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See also:

Famous poems below this ad
Written by Robert 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!

Written by Robert Louis Stevenson |

Pirate Story

 Three of us afloat in the meadow by the swing, 
Three of us abroad in the basket on the lea.
Winds are in the air, they are blowing in the spring, And waves are on the meadow like the waves there are at sea.
Where shall we adventure, to-day that we're afloat, Wary of the weather and steering by a star? Shall it be to Africa, a-steering of the boat, To Providence, or Babylon or off to Malabar? Hi! but here's a squadron a-rowing on the sea-- Cattle on the meadow a-charging with a roar! Quick, and we'll escape them, they're as mad as they can be, The wicket is the harbour and the garden is the shore.

Written by Robert Louis Stevenson |

Swallows Travel To And Fro

 SWALLOWS travel to and fro,
And the great winds come and go,
And the steady breezes blow,
Bearing perfume, bearing love.
Breezes hasten, swallows fly, Towered clouds forever ply, And at noonday, you and I See the same sunshine above.
Dew and rain fall everywhere, Harvests ripen, flowers are fair, And the whole round earth is bare To the moonshine and the sun; And the live air, fanned with wings, Bright with breeze and sunshine, brings Into contact distant things, And makes all the countries one.
Let us wander where we will, Something kindred greets us still; Something seen on vale or hill Falls familiar on the heart; So, at scent or sound or sight, Severed souls by day and night Tremble with the same delight - Tremble, half the world apart.

More great poems below...

Written by Robert Louis Stevenson |

An English Breeze

 UP with the sun, the breeze arose,
Across the talking corn she goes,
And smooth she rustles far and wide
Through all the voiceful countryside.
Through all the land her tale she tells; She spins, she tosses, she compels The kites, the clouds, the windmill sails And all the trees in all the dales.
God calls us, and the day prepares With nimble, gay and gracious airs: And from Penzance to Maidenhead The roads last night He watered.
God calls us from inglorious ease, Forth and to travel with the breeze While, swift and singing, smooth and strong She gallops by the fields along.

Written by Robert Louis Stevenson |

Thou Strainest Through The Mountain Fern

 THOU strainest through the mountain fern,
A most exiguously thin Burn.
For all thy foam, for all thy din, Thee shall the pallid lake inurn, With well-a-day for Mr.
Swin-Burne! Take then this quarto in thy fin And, O thou stoker huge and stern, The whole affair, outside and in, Burn! But save the true poetic kin, The works of Mr.
Robert Burn' And William Wordsworth upon Tin-Tern!

Written by Robert Louis Stevenson |

My Kingdom

 A little kingdom I possess 
where thoughts and feelings dwell, 
And very hard I find the task 
of governing it well; 
For passion tempts and troubles me, 
A wayward will misleads, 
And selfishness its shadow casts 
On all my words and deeds.
How can I learn to rule myself, to be the child I should, Honest and brave, nor ever tire Of trying to be good? How can I keep a sunny soul To shine along life's way? How can I tune my little heart To sweetly sing all day? Dear Father, help me with the love that casteth out my fear; Teach me to lean on thee, and feel That thou art very near, That no temptation is unseen No childish grief too small, Since thou, with patience infinite, Doth soothe and comfort all.
I do not ask for any crown But that which all may win Nor seek to conquer any world Except the one within.
Be thou my guide until I find, Led by a tender hand, Thy happy kingdom in myself And dare to take command.

Written by Robert Louis Stevenson |

From a Railway Carriage

 Faster than fairies, faster than witches,
Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches;
And charging along like troops in a battle
All through the meadows the horses and cattle:
All of the sights of the hill and the plain
Fly as thick as driving rain;
And ever again, in the wink of an eye,
Painted stations whistle by.
Here is a child who clambers and scrambles, All by himself and gathering brambles; Here is a tramp who stands and gazes; And here is the green for stringing the daisies! Here is a cart runaway in the road Lumping along with man and load; And here is a mill, and there is a river: Each a glimpse and gone forever!

Written by Robert 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.

Written by Robert Louis Stevenson |

A Good Play

 We built a ship upon the stairs 
All made of the back-bedroom chairs, 
And filled it full of soft 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.

Written by Robert Louis Stevenson |


 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.
Black are my steps on silver sod; Thick blows my frosty breath abroad; And tree and house, and hill and lake, Are frosted like a wedding cake.

Written by Robert Louis Stevenson |

A Thought

 It is very nice to think 
The world is full of meat and drink, 
With little children saying grace 
In every Christian kind of place.

Written by Robert Louis Stevenson |

Aunties Skirts

 Whenever Auntie moves around,
Her dresses make a curious sound,
They trail behind her up the floor,
And trundle after through the door.

Written by Robert Louis Stevenson |

The Little Land

 When at home alone I sit 
And am very tired of it, 
I have just to shut my eyes 
To go sailing through the skies-- 
To go sailing far away 
To the pleasant Land of Play; 
To the fairy land afar 
Where the Little People are; 
Where the clover-tops are trees, 
And the rain-pools are the seas, 
And the leaves, like little ships, 
Sail about on tiny trips; 
And above the Daisy tree 
Through the grasses, 
High o'erhead the Bumble Bee 
Hums and passes.
In that forest to and fro I can wander, I can go; See the spider and the fly, And the ants go marching by, Carrying parcels with their feet Down the green and grassy street.
I can in the sorrel sit Where the ladybird alit.
I can climb the jointed grass And on high See the greater swallows pass In the sky, And the round sun rolling by Heeding no such things as I.
Through that forest I can pass Till, as in a looking-glass, Humming fly and daisy tree And my tiny self I see, Painted very clear and neat On the rain-pool at my feet.
Should a leaflet come to land Drifting near to where I stand, Straight I'll board that tiny boat Round the rain-pool sea to float.
Little thoughtful creatures sit On the grassy coasts of it; Little things with lovely eyes See me sailing with surprise.
Some are clad in armour green-- (These have sure to battle been!)-- Some are pied with ev'ry hue, Black and crimson, gold and blue; Some have wings and swift are gone;-- But they all look kindly on.
When my eyes I once again Open, and see all things plain: High bare walls, great bare floor; Great big knobs on drawer and door; Great big people perched on chairs, Stitching tucks and mending tears, Each a hill that I could climb, And talking nonsense all the time-- O dear me, That I could be A sailor on a the rain-pool sea, A climber in the clover tree, And just come back a sleepy-head, Late at night to go to bed.

Written by Robert Louis Stevenson |

To My Name-Child


Some day soon this rhyming volume, if you learn with proper speed, 
Little Louis Sanchez, will be given you to read.
Then you shall discover, that your name was printed down By the English printers, long before, in London town.
In the great and busy city where the East and West are met, All the little letters did the English printer set; While you thought of nothing, and were still too young to play, Foreign people thought of you in places far away.
Ay, and when you slept, a baby, over all the English lands Other little children took the volume in their hands; Other children questioned, in their homes across the seas: Who was little Louis, won't you tell us, mother, please? 2 Now that you have spelt your lesson, lay it down and go and play, Seeking shells and seaweed on the sands of Monterey, Watching all the mighty whalebones, lying buried by the breeze, Tiny sandpipers, and the huge Pacific seas.
And remember in your playing, as the sea-fog rolls to you, Long ere you could read it, how I told you what to do; And that while you thought of no one, nearly half the world away Some one thought of Louis on the beach of Monterey!

Written by Robert 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,
Nut in the husk,
Nor dawn beyond the dusk,
Nor life beyond death:
God, if this were faith! 

Having felt thy wind in my face
Spit sorrow and disgrace,
Having seen thine evil doom
In Golgotha and Khartoum,
And the brutes, the work of thine hands,
Fill with injustice lands
And stain with blood the sea:
If still in my veins the glee
Of the black night and the sun
And the lost battle, run:
If, an adept,
The iniquitous lists I still accept
With joy, and joy to endure and be withstood,
And still to battle and perish for a dream of good:
God, if that were enough! 

If to feel, in the ink of the slough,
And the sink of the mire,
Veins of glory and fire
Run through and transpierce and transpire,
And a secret purpose of glory in every part,
And the answering glory of battle fill my heart;
To thrill with the joy of girded men
To go on for ever and fail and go on again,
And be mauled to the earth and arise,
And contend for the shade of a word and a thing
not seen with the eyes:
With the half of a broken hope for a pillow at night
That somehow the right is the right
And the smooth shall bloom from the rough:
Lord, if that were enough!