Be inspired by the poetry of Robert Louis Stevenson. Born in Edinburgh, Scotland on November 13, 1850 , his work as a novelist, poet, and writer has been read by millions. In addition to his
poetry, his books, Treasure Island and a Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde have lived on long after his death on December 3, 1894.
He only lived to 44 years of age. He suffered from bronchial issues much of his life. His writings have been translated into many different languages. While his life was short his works have
made an impact on this world. We hope his poetry inspires you!
When children are playing alone on the green,
In comes the playmate that never was seen.
When children are happy and lonely and good,
The Friend of the Children comes out of the wood.
Nobody heard him and nobody saw.
His is a picture you never could draw,
But he 's sure to be present, abroad or at home.
When children are happy and playing alone.
He lies in the laurels, he runs on the grass.
He sings when you tinkle the musical glass;
Whene'er you are happy and cannot tell why.
The Friend of the Children is sure to be by!
He loves to be little, he hates to be big,
'Tis he that inhabits the caves that you dig;
'Tis he when you play with your soldiers of tin
That sides with the Frenchmen and never can win.
'Tis he, when at night you go off to your bed,
Bids you go to your sleep and not trouble your head;
For wherever they 're lying, in cupboard or shelf,
'Tis he will take care of your playthings himself!
I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;
And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.
The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow -
Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;
For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball,
And he sometimes gets so little that there 's none of him at all.
He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play.
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.
He stays so close beside me, he 's a coward you can see;
I 'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!
One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head.
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.