Robert Louis Stevenson

(1850-1894 / Edinburgh / Scotland)

Robert Louis Stevenson Poems

201. Time To Rise 1/3/2003
202. To Alison Cunningham, From Her Boy 3/30/2010
203. To All That Love The Far And Blue 12/31/2002
204. To Any Reader 1/3/2003
205. To Auntie 1/3/2003
206. To Charles Baxter 12/31/2002
207. To Friends At Home 12/31/2002
208. To Madame Garschine 12/31/2002
209. To Marcus 12/31/2002
210. To Mesdames Zassetsky And Garschine 12/31/2002
211. To Minnie 1/3/2003
212. To Miss Cornish 12/31/2002
213. To Mrs. Macmarland 12/31/2002
214. To Mrs. Will. H. Low. 3/26/2015
215. To My Mother 1/3/2003
216. To My Name-Child 1/3/2003
217. To N. V. De G. S. 3/30/2010
218. To Ottilie 12/31/2002
219. To Rosabelle 12/31/2002
220. To Sydney 12/31/2002
221. To The Commissioners Of Northern Lights 12/31/2002
222. To The Muse 1/3/2003
223. To What Shall I Compare Her? 12/31/2002
224. To Will H. Low 3/30/2010
225. To Willie And Henrietta 1/3/2003
226. Travel 1/3/2003
227. Underwoods: Epigram 1/29/2015
228. Variant Form Of The Preceding Poem 12/31/2002
229. Voluntary 12/31/2002
230. Wedding Prayer 2/3/2015
231. What Man May Learn, What Man May Do 12/31/2002
232. When The Sun Come After Rain 12/31/2002
233. Where Go The Boats? 1/3/2003
234. Whole Duty Of Children 1/3/2003
235. Windy Nights 1/3/2003
236. Winter-Time 1/3/2003
237. You Looked So Tempting In The Pew 12/31/2002
238. Young Night-Thought 1/3/2003
239. Youth And Love 3/30/2010
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

In Lupum

BEYOND the gates thou gav'st a field to till;
I have a larger on my window-sill.
A farm, d'ye say? Is this a farm to you,
Where for all woods I spay one tuft of rue,
And that so rusty, and so small a thing,
One shrill cicada hides it with a wing;
Where one cucumber covers all the plain;
And where one serpent rings himself in vain
To enter wholly; and a single snail

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