Poems List

I Love To Be Warm By The Red Fireside

I Love To Be Warm By The Red Fireside
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.
221

I Dreamed Of Forest Alleys fair

I Dreamed Of Forest Alleys fair
I.
I DREAMED of forest alleys fair
And fields of gray-flowered grass,
Where by the yellow summer moon
My Jenny seemed to pass.
I dreamed the yellow summer moon,
Behind a cedar wood,
Lay white on fields of rippling grass
Where I and Jenny stood.
I dreamed - but fallen through my dream,
In a rainy land I lie
Where wan wet morning crowns the hills
Of grim reality.
II.
I am as one that keeps awake
All night in the month of June,
That lies awake in bed to watch
The trees and great white moon.
For memories of love are more
Than the white moon there above,
And dearer than quiet moonshine
Are the thoughts of her I love.
III.
Last night I lingered long without
My last of loves to see.
Alas! the moon-white window-panes
Stared blindly back on me.
To-day I hold her very hand,
Her very waist embrace -
Like clouds across a pool, I read
Her thoughts upon her face.
And yet, as now, through her clear eyes
I seek the inner shrine -
I stoop to read her virgin heart
In doubt if it be mine -
O looking long and fondly thus,
What vision should I see?
No vision, but my own white face
That grins and mimics me.
IV.


Once more upon the same old seat
In the same sunshiny weather,
The elm-trees' shadows at their feet
And foliage move together.
The shadows shift upon the grass,
The dial point creeps on;
The clear sun shines, the loiterers pass,
As then they passed and shone.
But now deep sleep is on my heart,
Deep sleep and perfect rest.
Hope's flutterings now disturb no more
The quiet of my breast.
324

I Am Like One That For Long Days Had Sate

I Am Like One That For Long Days Had Sate
I AM like one that for long days had sate,
With seaward eyes set keen against the gale,
On some lone foreland, watching sail by sail,
The portbound ships for one ship that was late;
And sail by sail, his heart burned up with joy,
And cruelly was quenched, until at last
One ship, the looked-for pennant at its mast,
Bore gaily, and dropt safely past the buoy;
And lo! the loved one was not there - was dead.
Then would he watch no more; no more the sea
With myriad vessels, sail by sail, perplex
His eyes and mock his longing. Weary head,
Take now thy rest; eyes, close; for no more me
Shall hopes untried elate, or ruined vex.
For thus on love I waited; thus for love
Strained all my senses eagerly and long;
Thus for her coming ever trimmed my song;
Till in the far skies coloured as a dove,
A bird gold-coloured flickered far and fled
Over the pathless waterwaste for me;
And with spread hands I watched the bright bird flee
And waited, till before me she dropped dead.
O golden bird in these dove-coloured skies
How long I sought, how long with wearied eyes
I sought, O bird, the promise of thy flight!
And now the morn has dawned, the morn has died,
The day has come and gone; and once more night
About my lone life settles, wild and wide.
322

Historical Associations

Historical Associations
Dear Uncle Jim. this garden ground
That now you smoke your pipe around,
has seen immortal actions done
And valiant battles lost and won.
Here we had best on tip-toe tread,
While I for safety march ahead,
For this is that enchanted ground
Where all who loiter slumber sound.
Here is the sea, here is the sand,
Here is the simple Shepherd's Land,
Here are the fairy hollyhocks,
And there are Ali Baba's rocks.
But yonder, see! apart and high,
Frozen Siberia lies; where I,
With Robert Bruce William Tell,
Was bound by an enchanter's spell.
367

Happy Thought

Happy Thought
The world is so full of a number of things,
I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings.
351

Good-Night

Good-Night
Then the bright lamp is carried in,
The sunless hours again begin;
O'er all without, in field and lane,
The haunted night returns again.
Now we behold the embers flee
About the firelit hearth; and see
Our faces painted as we pass,
Like pictures, on the window glass.
Must we to bed indeed? Well then,
Let us arise and go like men,
And face with an undaunted tread
The long black passage up to bed.
Farewell, O brother, sister, sire!
O pleasant party round the fire!
The songs you sing, the tales you tell,
Till far to-morrow, fare you well!
359

Hail! Childish Slave Of Social Rules

Hail! Childish Slave Of Social Rules
HAIL! Childish slaves of social rules
You had yourselves a hand in making!
How I could shake your faith, ye fools,
If but I thought it worth the shaking.
I see, and pity you; and then
Go, casting off the idle pity,
In search of better, braver men,
My own way freely through the city.
My own way freely, and not yours;
And, careless of a town's abusing,
Seek real friendship that endures
Among the friends of my own choosing.
I'll choose my friends myself, do you hear?
And won't let Mrs. Grundy do it,
Tho' all I honour and hold dear
And all I hope should move me to it.
I take my old coat from the shelf -
I am a man of little breeding.
And only dress to please myself -
I own, a very strange proceeding.
I smoke a pipe abroad, because
To all cigars I much prefer it,
And as I scorn your social laws
My choice has nothing to deter it.
Gladly I trudge the footpath way,
While you and yours roll by in coaches
In all the pride of fine array,
Through all the city's thronged approaches.
O fine religious, decent folk,
In Virtue's flaunting gold and scarlet,
I sneer between two puffs of smoke, -
Give me the publican and harlot.
Ye dainty-spoken, stiff, severe
Seed of the migrated Philistian,
One whispered question in your ear -
Pray, what was Christ, if you be Christian?
If Christ were only here just now,
Among the city's wynds and gables
Teaching the life he taught us, how
Would he be welcome to your tables?
I go and leave your logic-straws,
Your former-friends with face averted,
Your petty ways and narrow laws,
Your Grundy and your God, deserted.
From your frail ark of lies, I flee
I know not where, like Noah's raven.
Full to the broad, unsounded sea


I swim from your dishonest haven.
Alone on that unsounded deep,
Poor waif, it may be I shall perish,
Far from the course I thought to keep,
Far from the friends I hoped to cherish.
It may be that I shall sink, and yet
Hear, thro' all taunt and scornful laughter,
Through all defeat and all regret,
The stronger swimmers coming after.
428

From a Railway Carriage

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!
364

God Gave To Me A Child In Part

God Gave To Me A Child In Part
GOD gave to me a child in part,
Yet wholly gave the father's heart:
Child of my soul, O whither now,
Unborn, unmothered, goest thou?
You came, you went, and no man wist;
Hapless, my child, no breast you kist;
On no dear knees, a privileged babbler, clomb,
Nor knew the kindly feel of home.
My voice may reach you, O my dear-
A father's voice perhaps the child may hear;
And, pitying, you may turn your view
On that poor father whom you never knew.
Alas! alone he sits, who then,
Immortal among mortal men,
Sat hand in hand with love, and all day through
With your dear mother wondered over you.
291

frag

frag
Tall as a guardsman, pale as the east at dawn,
Who strides in strange apparel on the lawn?
Rails for his breakfast? routs his vassals out
(Like boys escaped from school) with song and shout?
Kind and unkind, his Maker's final freak,
Part we deride the child, part dread the antique!
See where his gang, like frogs, among the dew
Crouch at their duty, an unquiet crew;
Adjust their staring kilts; and their swift eyes
Turn still to him who sits to supervise.
He in the midst, perched on a fallen tree,
Eyes them at labour; and, guitar on knee,
Now ministers alarm, now scatters joy,
Now twangs a halting chord, now tweaks a boy.
Thorough in all, my resolute vizier
Plays both the despot and the volunteer,
Exacts with fines obedience to my laws,
And for his music, too, exacts applause.
369

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Identification and basic context

Robert Louis Balfour Stevenson was a prolific Scottish writer. He is celebrated for his novels, novellas, poems, and travel writings. His most famous works include "Treasure Island," "Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde," and "Kidnapped." Stevenson's writing often delves into the complexities of human nature, the allure of adventure, and the darker aspects of the psyche. His contributions span various genres, leaving a lasting impact on literature.

Childhood and education

Born into a family of prominent civil engineers, Stevenson's early life was marked by a frail constitution and frequent illnesses, including respiratory problems. Despite his physical challenges, he received a rigorous education. He attended the University of Edinburgh, initially studying engineering and then law, though his passion for writing led him to pursue literature. His childhood was filled with stories and a vivid imagination, which would later fuel his creative endeavors. He was exposed to a wide range of literature and intellectual discussions within his family and social circles.

Literary trajectory

Stevenson's literary career began to gain momentum in the 1870s. His early works included essays and travelogues, such as "An Inland Voyage" and "Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes." He gained significant recognition with the publication of "Treasure Island" in 1883, followed by "Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde" in 1886. His output was prolific, encompassing novels, short stories, poetry, and essays. His work evolved over time, moving from travel writing and essays to powerful fictional narratives that explored moral and psychological themes. He also contributed to various periodicals and collaborated on plays.

Works, style, and literary characteristics

Stevenson's major works include "Treasure Island" (1883), "Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde" (1886), "Kidnapped" (1886), and "The Master of Ballantrae" (1889). His dominant themes often revolve around adventure, morality, the duality of human nature, the supernatural, and the exotic. His style is characterized by clarity, vivid imagery, and a strong narrative drive. He masterfully employed storytelling techniques, creating memorable characters and compelling plots. His poetic works, such as "A Child's Garden of Verses," showcase a different, more lyrical and imaginative side. He was adept at creating suspense and exploring psychological depths within his characters. His language is precise and evocative, contributing to the immersive quality of his stories. While often associated with adventure fiction, his works also carry profound philosophical and moral undertones.

Cultural and historical context

Stevenson lived during the Victorian era, a period of significant social, industrial, and intellectual change in Britain. His work often reflects the era's fascination with exploration, empire, and the contrasting forces of progress and tradition. He was part of a literary scene that included contemporaries like George Meredith and Andrew Lang. His adventurous spirit and extensive travels also positioned him as a chronicler of different cultures and landscapes, engaging with the burgeoning interest in anthropology and geography of his time. His exploration of the darker side of human nature and societal hypocrisy can be seen as a commentary on the complexities of Victorian society.

Personal life

Stevenson's personal life was marked by his ongoing struggles with ill health, which significantly influenced his writing and his choice of residence. He married Fanny Vandegrift Osbourne, an American woman he met in France. Their relationship was a source of support and inspiration for him. His travels, often undertaken in search of a healthier climate, led him to live in various parts of the world, including the United States, Samoa, and the South Pacific. These experiences deeply enriched his understanding of different cultures and provided settings for his later works. He maintained friendships with other writers and artists, though his health often limited his social engagements.

Recognition and reception

During his lifetime, Stevenson achieved considerable fame and critical acclaim, particularly for his adventure novels. He was recognized as a significant literary voice of his generation. Posthumously, his reputation continued to grow, cementing his status as a classic author. His works have been widely translated and have remained consistently in print, appealing to both young and adult readers. While some critics have focused on his adventure elements, others have delved into the deeper psychological and philosophical aspects of his writing.

Influences and legacy

Stevenson was influenced by a range of authors, including Sir Walter Scott, Charles Dickens, and Edgar Allan Poe. His own work, in turn, has had a profound influence on countless writers, particularly in the genres of adventure, gothic, and children's literature. His innovative narrative techniques and explorations of character have left an indelible mark on storytelling. "Treasure Island" remains a cornerstone of adventure fiction, and "Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde" has become a cultural touchstone for exploring themes of duality. His legacy endures through his enduring popularity and his continued presence in educational curricula and popular culture.

Interpretation and critical analysis

Stevenson's works are often analyzed for their exploration of moral dilemmas, the conflict between civilization and savagery, and the nature of identity. The duality presented in "Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde" has been interpreted in various ways, from psychoanalytic perspectives to broader social commentary on repression and freedom. Critics often examine his use of symbolism, his engagement with themes of the uncanny, and his ability to create gripping narratives that also provoke thought. His exploration of the exotic and the 'other' in works like "The Beach of Falesá" also invites critical discussion regarding colonialism and cultural representation.

Curiosities and lesser-known aspects

Stevenson was known for his distinctive appearance, often wearing a velvet jacket and a jaunty hat. He had a lifelong fascination with the macabre and the supernatural, which informed much of his fiction. His intense desire to write and create, despite his chronic ill health, is a testament to his determination. He was also a keen observer of human nature and social customs, which he captured vividly in his writings. His nomadic lifestyle, dictated by his health, allowed him to experience a wide array of environments and cultures, shaping his unique perspective.

Death and memory

Robert Louis Stevenson died of a cerebral hemorrhage in 1894. He was buried on Mount Vaea in Samoa, overlooking the Pacific Ocean. His tomb is marked by an inscription of his own poem, "Requiem." His death was mourned by many, and his legacy has been preserved through his enduring literary works, which continue to be read, studied, and adapted worldwide.