Section: «Poems»
Verse (ancient Greek ὁ στίχος — row, structure), a term in versification used in several meanings:
artistic speech organized by division into rhythmically commensurate segments; poetry in the narrow sense; in particular, it implies the properties of versification of a particular tradition ("antique verse", "Akhmatova's verse", etc.);
a line of poetic text organized according to a certain rhythmic pattern ("My uncle of the most honest rules").
To My Mother
You too, my mother, read my rhymesFor love of unforgotten times,And you may chance to hear once moreThe little feet along the floor.
© Robert Louis Stevenson
To Mrs. Will. H. Low.
Even in the bluest noonday of July,There could not run the smallest breath of windBut all the quarter sounded like a wood;And in the chequered..
© Robert Louis Stevenson
To Mrs. Macmarland
IN Schnee der Alpen - so it runsTo those divine accords - and hereWe dwell in Alpine snows and suns,A motley crew, for half the year:A motley crew..
© Robert Louis Stevenson
To Miss Cornish
THEY tell me, lady, that to-dayOn that unknown Australian strand -Some time ago, so far away -Another lady joined the band.She joined the company of..
© Robert Louis Stevenson
To Minnie
The red room with the giant bedWhere none but elders laid their head;The little room where you and IDid for awhile together lieAnd, simple, suitor, I..
© Robert Louis Stevenson
To Mesdames Zassetsky And Garschine
THE wind may blaw the lee-gang wayAnd aye the lift be mirk an' gray,An deep the moss and steigh the braeWhere a' maun gang -There's still an hoor in..
© Robert Louis Stevenson
To Marcus
YOU have been far, and IBeen farther yet,Since last, in foul or fairAn impecunious pair,Below this northern skyOf ours, we met.Now winter night shall..
© Robert Louis Stevenson
To Madame Garschine
WHAT is the face, the fairest face, till Care,Till Care the graver - Care with cunning hand,Etches content thereon and makes it fair,Or constancy..
© Robert Louis Stevenson
To Friends At Home
TO friends at home, the lone, the admired, the lostThe gracious old, the lovely young, to MayThe fair, December the beloved,These from my blue..
© Robert Louis Stevenson
To Charles Baxter
OUR Johnie's deid. The mair's the pity!He's deid, an' deid o' Aqua-vitae.O Embro', you're a shrunken city,Noo Johnie's deid!Tak hands, an' sing a..
© Robert Louis Stevenson
To Auntie
"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?"
© Robert Louis Stevenson
To Any Reader
As from the house your mother seesYou playing round the garden trees,So you may see, if you will lookThrough the windows of this book,Another child..
© Robert Louis Stevenson
To All That Love The Far And Blue
TO all that love the far and blue:Whether, from dawn to eve, on footThe fleeing corners ye pursue,Nor weary of the vain pursuit;Or whether down the..
© Robert Louis Stevenson
To Alison Cunningham, From Her Boy
For the long nights you lay awakeAnd watched for my unworthy sake:For your most comfortable handThat led me through the uneven land:For all the..
© Robert Louis Stevenson
Time To Rise
A birdie with a yellow billHopped upon my window sill,Cocked his shining eye and said:"Ain't you 'shamed, you sleepy-head!"
© Robert Louis Stevenson
Though Deep Indifference Should Drowse
THOUGH deep indifference should drowseThe sluggish life beneath my brows,And all the external things I seeGrow snow-showers in the street to me,Yet..
© Robert Louis Stevenson
Thou Strainest Through The Mountain Fern
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..
© Robert Louis Stevenson
This Gloomy Northern Day
THIS gloomy northern day,Or this yet gloomier night,Has moved a something highIn my cold heart; and I,That do not often pray,Would pray to-night.And..
© Robert Louis Stevenson
There Was An Old Man Of The Cape
There was an old man of the CapeWho made himself garments of crepe.When asked, "Do they tear?"He replied, "Here and there,But they're perfectly..
© Robert Louis Stevenson
The Wind Is Without There And Howls In The Trees
THE wind is without there and howls in the trees,And the rain-flurries drum on the glass:Alone by the fireside with elbows on kneesI can number the..
© Robert Louis Stevenson
The Wind Blew Shrill And Smart
THE wind blew shrill and smart,And the wind awoke my heartAgain to go a-sailing o'er the sea,To hear the cordage moanAnd the straining timbers..
© Robert Louis Stevenson
The Wind
I saw you toss the kites on highAnd blow the birds about the sky;And all around I heard you pass,Like ladies' skirts across the grass--O wind..
© Robert Louis Stevenson
The Vanquished Knight
I HAVE left all upon the shameful field,Honour and Hope, my God, and all but life;Spurless, with sword reversed and dinted shield,Degraded and..
© Robert Louis Stevenson
The Vagabond
Give to me the life I love,Let the lave go by me,Give the jolly heaven aboveAnd the byway nigh me.Bed in the bush with stars to see,Bread I dip in..
© Robert Louis Stevenson
The Unseen Playmate
When children are playing alone on the green,In comes the playmate that never was seen.When children are happy and lonely and good,The Friend of the..
© Robert Louis Stevenson