Robert Louis Stevenson

(1850-1894 / Edinburgh / Scotland)

Robert Louis Stevenson Poems

81. I Will Make You Brooches 3/30/2010
82. I, Whom Apollo Somtime Visited 12/31/2002
83. If This Were Faith 1/3/2003
84. In Charidemum 12/31/2002
85. In Lupum 12/31/2002
86. In Maximum 12/31/2002
87. In Port 1/3/2003
88. In The Green And Gallant Spring 12/31/2002
89. In The Highlands 1/4/2003
90. In The States 1/3/2003
91. It Blows A Snowing Gale 12/31/2002
92. It's Forth Across The Roaring Foam 12/31/2002
93. Katherine 1/3/2003
94. Keepsake Mill 1/3/2003
95. Know You The River Near To Grez 12/31/2002
96. Late, O Miller 12/31/2002
97. Let Love Go, If Go She Will 12/31/2002
98. Light As The Linnet On My Way I Start 12/31/2002
99. Lo! In Thine Honest Eyes I Read 12/31/2002
100. Lo, Now, My Guest 12/31/2002
101. Long Time I Lay In Little Ease 12/31/2002
102. Looking Forward 1/3/2003
103. Looking-Glass River 1/3/2003
104. Loud And Low In The Chimney 12/31/2002
105. Love, What Is Love 12/31/2002
106. Love's Vicissitudes 12/31/2002
107. Man Sails The Deep Awhile 12/31/2002
108. Marching Song 1/3/2003
109. Men Are Heaven's Piers 12/31/2002
110. Mine Eyes Were Swift To Know Thee 12/31/2002
111. Music At The Villa Marina 12/31/2002
112. My Bed Is A Boat 1/3/2003
113. My Bed Is A Boat 3/30/2010
114. My Body, Which My Dungeon Is 5/22/2015
115. My Heart, When First The Black-Bird Sings 3/30/2010
116. My Heart, When First The Black-Bird Sings 12/31/2002
117. My House, I Say 1/9/2015
118. My Kingdom 1/3/2003
119. My Love Was Warm 12/31/2002
120. My Shadow 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

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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