Robert Louis Stevenson

(1850-1894 / Edinburgh / Scotland)

Robert Louis Stevenson Poems

1. To Mrs. Will. H. Low. 3/26/2015
2. My Body, Which My Dungeon Is 5/22/2015
3. The Feast Of Famine 7/1/2015
4. Underwoods: Epigram 1/29/2015
5. The Mirror Speaks 4/7/2015
6. The Sick Child 4/24/2015
7. There Was An Old Man Of The Cape 2/4/2015
8. My House, I Say 1/9/2015
9. Consolation 3/6/2015
10. Wedding Prayer 2/3/2015
11. A Child's Garden Of Verses 1/7/2015
12. To Mesdames Zassetsky And Garschine 12/31/2002
13. To Miss Cornish 12/31/2002
14. To Rosabelle 12/31/2002
15. To Madame Garschine 12/31/2002
16. To Marcus 12/31/2002
17. Sonnet Viii 12/31/2002
18. Sonet Vi 12/31/2002
19. The Old Chimaeras. Old Recipts 12/31/2002
20. In The States 1/3/2003
21. The Clock's Clear Voice Into The Clearer Air 12/31/2002
22. In Maximum 12/31/2002
23. Frag2 12/31/2002
24. Light As The Linnet On My Way I Start 12/31/2002
25. To Will H. Low 3/30/2010
26. To Charles Baxter 12/31/2002
27. The Spaewife 3/30/2010
28. Hail, Guest, And Enter Freely! 12/31/2002
29. Tempest Tossed And Sore Afflicted 12/31/2002
30. In Charidemum 12/31/2002
31. The Relic Taken, What Avails The Shrine? 12/31/2002
32. Sonnet Vii 12/31/2002
33. O Dull Cold Northern Sky 12/31/2002
34. Henry James 1/3/2003
35. My Heart, When First The Black-Bird Sings 3/30/2010
36. Sonnet Ii 12/31/2002
37. Frag1 12/31/2002
38. Sonnet V 12/31/2002
39. To N. V. De G. S. 3/30/2010
40. For Richmond's Garden Wall 12/31/2002
Best Poem of Robert Louis Stevenson

The Swing

How do you like to go up in a swing,
Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do!

Up in the air and over the wall,
Till I can see so wide,
River and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside--

Till I look down on the garden green,
Down on the roof so brown--
Up in the air I go flying again,
Up in the air and down!

Read the full of The Swing

Love's Vicissitudes

AS Love and Hope together
Walk by me for a while,
Link-armed the ways they travel
For many a pleasant mile -
Link-armed and dumb they travel,
They sing not, but they smile.

Hope leaving, Love commences
To practise on the lute;

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