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Robert Louis Stevenson Short Poems

Famous Short Robert Louis Stevenson Poems. Short poetry by famous poet Robert Louis Stevenson. A collection of the all-time best Robert Louis Stevenson short poems


by Robert Louis Stevenson
 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!



by Robert Louis Stevenson
 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!

by Robert Louis Stevenson
 Thank you, pretty cow, that made
Pleasant milk to soak my bread, 
Every day and every night, 
Warm, and fresh, and sweet, and white.
Do not chew the hemlock rank, Growing on the weedy bank; But the yellow cowslips eat; They perhaps will make it sweet.
Where the purple violet grows, Where the bubbling water flows, Where the grass is fresh and fine, Pretty cow, go there to dine.

by Robert Louis Stevenson
 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.

by Robert Louis Stevenson
 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.

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

by Robert Louis Stevenson
 EARLY in the morning I hear on your piano
You (at least, I guess it's you) proceed to learn to play.
Mostly little minds should take and tackle their piano While the birds are singing in the morning of the day.

by Robert Louis Stevenson
 In winter I get up at night
And dress by yellow candle-light.
In summer quite the other way, I have to go to bed by day.
I have to go to bed and see The birds still hopping on the tree, Or hear the grown-up people's feet Still going past me in the street.
And does it not seem hard to you, When all the sky is clear and blue, And I should like so much to play, To have to go to bed by day?

by Robert Louis Stevenson
 When I was down beside the sea 
A wooden spade they gave to me 
To dig the sandy shore.
My holes were empty like a cup.
In every hole the sea came up, Till it could come no more.

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

by Robert Louis Stevenson
 WHEN Thomas set this tablet here,
Time laughed at the vain chanticleer;
And ere the moss had dimmed the stone,
Time had defaced that garrison.
Now I in turn keep watch and ward In my red house, in my walled yard Of sunflowers, sitting here at ease With friends and my bright canvases.
But hark, and you may hear quite plain Time's chuckled laughter in the lane.

by Robert Louis Stevenson
 AS when the hunt by holt and field
Drives on with horn and strife,
Hunger of hopeless things pursues
Our spirits throughout life.
The sea's roar fills us aching full Of objectless desire - The sea's roar, and the white moon-shine, And the reddening of the fire.
Who talks to me of reason now? It would be more delight To have died in Cleopatra's arms Than be alive to-night.

by Robert Louis Stevenson
 Come up here, O dusty feet!
Here is fairy ready to eat.
Here in my retiring room, Children ,you may dine On the golden smell of broom And the shade of pine; And when you have eaten well, Fairy stories hear and tell.

by Robert Louis Stevenson
 AT last she comes, O never more
In this dear patience of my pain
To leave me lonely as before,
Or leave my soul alone again.

by Robert Louis Stevenson
 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.

by Robert Louis Stevenson
 Whenever the moon and stars are set,
Whenever the wind is high,
All night long in the dark and wet,
A man goes riding by.
Late in the night when the fires are out, Why does he gallop and gallop about? Whenever the trees are crying aloud, And ships are tossed at sea, By, on the highway, low and loud, By at the gallop goes he.
By at the gallop he goes, and then By he comes back at the gallop again.

by Robert Louis Stevenson
 LO, now, my guest, if aught amiss were said,
Forgive it and dismiss it from your head.
For me, for you, for all, to close the date, Pass now the ev'ning sponge across the slate; And to that spirit of forgiveness keep Which is the parent and the child of sleep.

by Robert Louis Stevenson
 "Chief of our aunts"--not only I, 
But all your dozen of nurselings cry-- 
"What did the other children do? 
And what were childhood, wanting you?"

by Robert Louis Stevenson
 I LOVE to be warm by the red fireside,
I love to be wet with rain:
I love to be welcome at lamplit doors,
And leave the doors again.

by Robert Louis Stevenson
 How do you like to go up in a swing, 
Up in the air so blue? 
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing 
Ever a child can do! 

Up in the air and over the wall, 
Till I can see so wide, 
River and trees and cattle and all 
Over the countryside-- 

Till I look down on the garden green, 
Down on the roof so brown-- 
Up in the air I go flying again, 
Up in the air and down!

by Robert Louis Stevenson
 LOUD and low in the chimney
The squalls suspire;
Then like an answer dwindles
And glows the fire,
And the chamber reddens and darkens
In time like taken breath.
Near by the sounding chimney The youth apart Hearkens with changing colour And leaping heart, And hears in the coil of the tempest The voice of love and death.
Love on high in the flute-like And tender notes Sounds as from April meadows And hillside cotes; But the deep wood wind in the chimney Utters the slogan of death.

by Robert Louis Stevenson
 DEAR sir, good-morrow! Five years back,
When you first girded for this arduous track,
And under various whimsical pretexts
Endowed another with your damned defects,
Could you have dreamed in your despondent vein
That the kind God would make your path so plain?
Non nobis, domine! O, may He still
Support my stumbling footsteps on the hill!

by Robert Louis Stevenson
 The friendly cow all red and white, 
I love with all my heart: 
She gives me cream with all her might, 
To eat with apple-tart.
She wanders lowing here and there, And yet she cannot stray, All in the pleasant open air, The pleasant light of day; And blown by all the winds that pass And wet with all the showers, She walks among the meadow grass And eats the meadow flowers.

by Robert Louis Stevenson
 FAIR Isle at Sea - thy lovely name
Soft in my ear like music came.
That sea I loved, and once or twice I touched at isles of Paradise.

by Robert Louis Stevenson
 Bring the comb and play upon it! 
Marching, here we come! 
Willie cocks his highland bonnet, 
Johnnie beats the drum.
Mary Jane commands the party, Peter leads the rear; Feet in time, alert and hearty, Each a Grenadier! All in the most martial manner Marching double-quick; While the napkin, like a banner, Waves upon the stick! Here's enough of fame and pillage, Great commander Jane! Now that we've been round the village, Let's go home again.