Robert Louis Stevenson Poems

OVER the land is April,
Over my heart a rose;
Over the high, brown mountain
The sound of singing goes.
...

AS swallows turning backward
When half-way o'er the sea,
At one word's trumpet summons
They came again to me -
...

FAREWELL, and when forth
I through the Golden Gates to Golden Isles
Steer without smiling, through the sea of smiles,
Isle upon isle, in the seas of the south,
...

TO what shall I compare her,
That is as fair as she?
For she is fairer - fairer
Than the sea.
...

O CHIEF director of the growing race,
Of Rome the glory and of Rome the grace,
Me, O Quintilian, may you not forgive
Before from labour I make haste to live?
...

Over the borders, a sin without pardon,
Breaking the branches and crawling below,
Out through the breach in the wall of the garden,
Down by the banks of the river we go.
...

When I am grown to man's estate
I shall be very proud and great,
...

Smooth it glides upon its travel,
Here a wimple, there a gleam--
O the clean gravel!
O the smooth stream!
...

All the names I know from nurse:
Gardener's garters, Shepherd's purse,
Bachelor's buttons, Lady's smock,
And the Lady Hollyhock.
...

All around the house is the jet-black night;
It stares through the window-pane;
It crawls in the corners, hiding from the light,
And it moves with the moving flame.
...