Stevenson
SCOTLAND
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Robert Louis Stevenson was born at Edinburgh in 1850. He was at first trained to be a lighthouse engineer, following the profession of his family. But a serious illness at eight years interfered with his plans. However, he studied law instead; was admitted to the bar in 1875; and abandoned law for literature a few years later. When Stevenson was 26 years old he met an American woman, Mrs. Fanny Osbourne. He fell in love with her and followed her to America, and in 1880 they were married. He returned with her to Scotland, but the climate was bad for him and he began to travel for health reasons. During these years from 1880 to 1886, Stevenson published most of the books that made him famous, including The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and The New Arabian Nights. Though primarily a novelist, Stevenson has left one immortal book of poetry which is equally at home in the nursery and library: A Child's Garden of Verses (first published in 1885) is second only to Mother Goose's own collection in its lyrical simplicity and universal appeal. Underwoods (1887) and Ballads (1890) comprise his entire poetic output. As a genial essayist, he is not unworthy to be ranked with Charles Lamb. As a romancer, his fame rests securely on Kidnapped, the unfinished masterpiece, Weir of Hermiston, and that eternal classic of youth, Treasure Island. In 1887 Stevenson and his family sailed from Europe which he never saw again. He lived in New York for a time, but in 1888 hired a ship and sailed for the South Pacific. The last years of Stevenson's life were spent on the island of Samoa, where he became a good friend to the natives and helped them fight against the injustices of some of the British governors. Stevenson died after a long and dogged fight with tuberculosis, in Vailima in the Samoan Islands in 1894. He was only 44 years old and had been in bad health nearly all his life. |
"Death, To the Dead For Evermore"
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;
Smiling, he greets us, on that tranquil shore
Where neither piping bird nor peeping dawn
Disturbs the eternal sleep,
But in the stillness far withdrawn
Our dreamless rest for evermore we keep.
For as from open windows forth we
peep
Upon the night-time star beset
And with dews for ever wet;
So from this garish life the spirit peers;
And lo! as a sleeping city death outspread,
Where breathe the sleepers evenly; and lo!
After the loud wars, triumphs, trumpets, tears
And clamour of man's passion, Death appears,
And we must rise and go.
Soon are eyes tired with
sunshine; soon the ears
Weary of utterance, seeing all is said;
Soon, racked by hopes and fears,
The all-pondering, all-contriving head,
Weary with all things, wearies of the years;
And our sad spirits turn toward the dead;
And the tired child, the body, longs for bed.
Where Go the Boats?
From Child's Garden of Verses
Dark brown is the river,
Golden is the sand.
It flows along for ever,
With trees on either hand.
Green leaves a-floating,
Castles of the foam,
Boats of mine a-boating--
Where will all come home?
On goes the river
And out past the mill,
Away down the valley,
Away down the hill.
Away down the river,
A hundred miles or more,
Other little children
Shall bring my boats ashore.
My Bed is a Boat
From Child's Garden of Verses
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.
At night I go on board and say
Good-night to all my friends on shore;
I shut my eyes and sail away
And see and hear no more.
And sometimes things to bed I
take,
As prudent sailors have to do;
Perhaps a slice of wedding-cake,
Perhaps a toy or two.
All night across the dark we
steer;
But when the day returns at last,
Safe in my room beside the pier,
I find my vessel fast.
Time to Rise
From Child's Garden of Verses
A birdie with a yellow bill
Hopped upon my window sill,
Cocked his shining eye and said:
"Ain't you 'shamed, you sleepy-head!"