were directly inspired by personal friendships. Loyalty to his country and his friends evokes the sweetest music: "It's an owercome sooth for age an' youth, And it brooks wi' nae denial, That the dearest friends are the auldest friends, And the young are just on trial.» While his deepest feelings are expressed in 'Underwoods,' his tenderest are found in 'A Child's Garden of Verses.' Its simplicity, and the delicate truth with which it images a child's fancies, have made it a classic of childhood. The conscious artist is never evident in it. It seems to be the spontaneous expression of a child's mind. The place that Stevenson will take in literature is surely not to be made evident so long as the glamour of his personality remains over those who were his contemporaries. And with this personality so fully interwoven with his works, it seems hard to believe that the glamour can soon fade away. It is easy to imagine that, like Charles Lamb, he can never become wholly a "figure in literature," but will remain vividly present to many generations of readers as a gifted child of genius who is to be fervently loved. Robert Bridges, BED IN SUMMER From Poems and Ballads. By permission of the authorized publishers, Charles Scribner's Sons TRAVEL From 'Poems and Ballads. By permission of the authorized publishers, Charles Scribner's Sons I SHOULD like to rise and go Where the golden apples grow; Where below another sky Parrot islands anchored lie, And, watched by cockatoos and goats, Where in sunshine reaching out, Are with mosque and minaret Among sandy gardens set, And the rich goods from near and far Hang for sale in the bazaar; Where the Great Wall round China goes, And on one side the desert blows, And with bell and voice and drum, Cities on the other hum; Where are forest, hot as fire, Wide as England, tall as a spire, Full of apes and cocoanuts And the negro hunters' huts;- All its children, sweep and prince, Light a fire in the gloom THE LAND OF COUNTERPANE From 'Poems and Ballads. By permission of the authorized publishers, Charles Scribner's Sons WHE HEN I was sick and lay a-bed, And sometimes for an hour or so And sometimes sent my ships in fleets I was the giant great and still That sits upon the pillow-hill, And sees before him, dale and plain, NORTHWEST PASSAGE From Poems and Ballads. By permission of the authorized publishers, XXIV-872 Charles Scribner's Sons I. GOOD-NIGHT THEN the bright lamp is carried in, WHE The sunless hours again begin; Now we behold the embers flee Our faces painted as we pass, Must we to bed indeed? Well then, Farewell, O brother, sister, sire! II. SHADOW MARCH All round the house is the jet-black night: It stares through the window-pane; Now my little heart goes a-beating like a drum, And all round the candle the crooked shadows come, The shadow of the balusters, the shadow of the lamp, III. IN PORT Last, to the chamber where I lie My fearful footsteps patter nigh, And come from out the cold and gloom There, safe arrived, we turn about Then, when mamma goes by to bed, "IF THIS WERE FAITH » From 'Poems and Ballads. By permission of the authorized publishers, Charles Scribner's Sons The iniquitous lists I still accept With joy, and joy to endure and be withstood, If to feel, in the ink of the slough Veins of glory and fire Run through and transpierce and transpire, 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? |