Time poems
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Tales Of Arabia
© Robert Louis Stevenson
YES, friend, I own these tales of Arabia
Smile not, as smiled their flawless originals,
Age-old but yet untamed, for ages
Pass and the magic is undiminished.
Still I Love To Rhyme
© Robert Louis Stevenson
STILL I love to rhyme, and still more, rhyming, to wander
Far from the commoner way;
Old-time trills and falls by the brook-side still do I ponder,
Dreaming to-morrow to-day.
Sonnet VIII
© Robert Louis Stevenson
As Daniel, bird-alone, in that far land,
Kneeling in fervent prayer, with heart-sick eyes
Turned thro' the casement toward the westering skies;
Or as untamed Elijah, that red brand
Sonnet VII
© Robert Louis Stevenson
The strong man's hand, the snow-cool head of age,
The certain-footed sympathies of youth -
These, and that lofty passion after truth,
Hunger unsatisfied in priest or sage
Sonnet II
© Robert Louis Stevenson
So shall this book wax like unto a well,
Fairy with mirrored flowers about the brim,
Or like some tarn that wailing curlews skim,
Glassing the sallow uplands or brown fell;
Sonnet I
© Robert Louis Stevenson
NOR judge me light, tho' light at times I seem,
And lightly in the stress of fortune bear
The innumerable flaws of changeful care -
Nor judge me light for this, nor rashly deem
Marching Song
© Robert Louis Stevenson
Bring the comb and play upon it!
Marching, here we come!
Willie cocks his highland bonnet,
Johnnie beats the drum.
Loud And Low In The Chimney
© Robert Louis Stevenson
LOUD and low in the chimney
The squalls suspire;
Then like an answer dwindles
And glows the fire,
Long Time I Lay In Little Ease
© Robert Louis Stevenson
LONG time I lay in little ease
Where, placed by the Turanian,
Marseilles, the many-masted, sees
The blue Mediterranean.
In The States
© Robert Louis Stevenson
With half a heart I wander here
As from an age gone by
A brother yet though young in years,
An elder brother, I.
I Now, O Friend, Whom Noiselessly The Snows
© Robert Louis Stevenson
I NOW, O friend, whom noiselessly the snows
Settle around, and whose small chamber grows
Dusk as the sloping window takes its load:
Home, My Little Children, Hear Are Songs For You
© Robert Louis Stevenson
COME, my little children, here are songs for you;
Some are short and some are long, and all, all are new.
You must learn to sing them very small and clear,
Very true to time and tune and pleasing to the ear.
For Richmond's Garden Wall
© 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.
Death, To The Dead For Evermore
© Robert Louis Stevenson
DEATH, to the dead for evermore
A King, a God, the last, the best of friends -
Whene'er this mortal journey ends
Death, like a host, comes smiling to the door;
Come, Here Is Adieu To The City
© Robert Louis Stevenson
COME, here is adieu to the city
And hurrah for the country again.
The broad road lies before me
Watered with last night's rain.
As In Their Flight The Birds Of Song
© Robert Louis Stevenson
AS in their flight the birds of song
Halt here and there in sweet and sunny dales,
But halt not overlong;
The time one rural song to sing
Air Of Diabelli's
© Robert Louis Stevenson
Still in the river see the shallop floats.
Hark! Chimes the falling oar.
Still in the mind
Hark to the song of the past!
Dream, and they pass in their dreams.
A Valentine's Song
© Robert Louis Stevenson
MOTLEY I count the only wear
That suits, in this mixed world, the truly wise,
Who boldly smile upon despair
And shake their bells in Grandam Grundy's eyes.
To The Pious Memory Of The Accomplished Young Lady Mrs. Anne Killigrew
© John Dryden
Thou youngest virgin-daughter of the skies,
Made in the last promotion of the Blest;
Whose palms, new pluck'd from Paradise,
In spreading branches more sublimely rise,
To My Dear Friend Mr. Congreve On His Commedy Call'd The Double Dealer
© John Dryden
Well then; the promis'd hour is come at last;
The present age of wit obscures the past:
Strong were our sires; and as they fought they writ,
Conqu'ring with force of arms, and dint of wit;
