Robert Louis Stevenson

(1850-1894 / Edinburgh / Scotland)

Comments about Robert Louis Stevenson

  • Qunoot (8/7/2018 7:15:00 AM)

    Its great

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  • Janet (6/21/2018 2:58:00 PM)

    A loved poem of my childhood which I have revisited. It is a lovely poem which revives many happy memories of mom reading and rereading it to us.

  • Aarush (6/3/2018 2:43:00 AM)

    One of my favorite and one of the greatest poets and authors of all times

  • anti virus (6/2/2018 12:57:00 AM)

    # looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooool

  • Rajnish Manga Rajnish Manga (5/8/2018 9:35:00 AM)

    Robert Louis Stevenson remains one of the best men of letters- A person, A Poet and a Novelist loved by the readers of English Literature. His writings are timeless beauties.

  • laura (5/2/2018 12:09:00 PM)

    he died in 1950 I'm so sorry

  • Kshirod Kumar Dehury Kshirod Kumar Dehury (4/20/2018 9:35:00 AM)

    beautyfull poem, i am enjoy your poem

  • Wanita (4/19/2018 8:17:00 AM)

    Poem Hunter is such a useful tool. Thank you

  • Corneillia (3/15/2018 12:10:00 PM)

    Lovely ☺

  • T.Vorderbruggen (2/25/2018 12:48:00 PM)

    its amazing how much he has written in his short life.
    239 poems! ! ! and all his books.

Best Poem of Robert Louis Stevenson

Summer Sun

Great is the sun, and wide he goes
Through empty heaven with repose;
And in the blue and glowing days
More thick than rain he showers his rays.

Though closer still the blinds we pull
To keep the shady parlour cool,
Yet he will find a chink or two
To slip his golden fingers through.

The dusty attic spider-clad
He, through the keyhole, maketh glad;
And through the broken edge of tiles
Into the laddered hay-loft smiles.

Meantime his golden face around
He bares to all the garden ground,
And sheds a warm and glittering look ...

Read the full of Summer Sun

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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