The Novels and Tales of Robert Louis Stevenson: A child's garden of verses. Underwoods. Ballads

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Contents

Not YET MY Soul
135
It is Not Yours O Mother to Complain
136
O Mother Lay Your HAND on MY Brow
138
YEr O Stricken HEART
139
Peace AND HER Huge Invasion 14o XXIX IN THE STATES With Half a HEART
142
I Am A Knd of FARTHING Dip
143
Sing Clearlier Muse
144
THE BED Was MADE
145
WE Travelled IN THE PRINT of OLDEN WARs
146
For Love of Lovely Words
147
My House I SAY
149
My Body Which My DuNGEoN is
150
Say Not of Me that weakly I DEclined
152
Book IlIN Scots
153
TABLE of Common Scottish Vowel Sounds
154
FAR YonT AMANG THE Years to be
155
O I Wad Like to KEN
169
THE LORD HIMSELIN ForMER DAYS
181
LATE IN THE Nicht
189
Its An Owercome Sooth For AGE AN YouTH
196
II To THE HEART of YoUTH
202
To You LET Snow AND Roses
208
BERRIED BRAKE AND REEDY Island
212
THE Cock shAll Crow
214
Son of My Womans Body
215
BRIGHT is THE RING of Words
216
IN THE Highlands IN THE Country Places
217
Home No More Home
218
IN THE Beloved Hour 22O XIX TO I Knew THEE Strong
221
THE MoRNING DRUMCAll
223
HAve TRod
224
HE HEARs with GladdenED HEART
225
Farewell Fair Day
226
God if this were enough
227
Trusty Dusky Vivid True
229
IN RIGorous Hours
230
THE Stormy Evening Closes
231
Since Long Ago
232
THE Silver Ship My King
234
Forth From HER LAND
235
To see the INFINITE PITY
236
I Knew A Silver HEAD
237
Long Must Elapse ERE You
238
RESIGN THE RHAPsody
240
Do You REMEMBER
241
The Tropics VANIsh
243
I HEARD THE Pulse
245
Let us who Part
247
IN ALL THE Grove
252
As THE SINGLE PANG of THE Blow
257
LET Now YoUR Soul
259
We UncomMiserATE PAss
260
ONCE MoRE I SAw HIM
261
SING Me A Song
262
Blows THE WIND ToDay
264
THE EMBERs of THE DAY
265
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Page 1 - IN winter I get up at night And dress by yellow candle-light. In summer, quite the other way, I have to go to bed by day. I have to go to bed and see The birds still hopping on the tree, Or hear the grown-up people's feet Still going past me in the street. And does it not seem hard to you, When all the sky is clear and blue, And I should like so much to play, To have to go to bed by day...
Page 129 - REQUIEM UNDER the wide and starry sky, Dig the grave and let me lie. Glad did I live and gladly die, And I laid me down with a will. This be the verse you grave for me : Here he lies where he longed to be ; Home is the sailor, home from sea, And the hunter home from the hill.
Page 25 - The world is so full of a number of things, I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings.
Page 198 - Let the blow fall soon or late, Let what will be o'er me; Give the face of earth around And the road before me. Wealth I seek not, hope nor love, Nor a friend to know me; All I seek the heaven above And the road below me.
Page 35 - 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, Rivers 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 ! XXXIV TIME TO RISE A BIRDIE with a yellow bill Hopped upon the window sill, Cocked his shining eye and said: "Ain't you 'shamed,...
Page 197 - GIVE to me the life I love, Let the lave go by me, Give the jolly heaven above And the byway nigh me. Bed in the bush with stars to see, Bread I dip in the river — There's the life for a man like me, There's the life for ever.
Page 26 - I SAW you toss the kites on high And blow the birds about the sky; And all around I heard you pass, Like ladies' skirts across the grass — O wind, a-blowing all day long O wind, that sings so loud a song!
Page 214 - BRIGHT is the ring of words When the right man rings them, Fair the fall of songs When the singer sings them. Still they are carolled and said — On wings they are carried — After the singer is dead And the maker buried.
Page 61 - I can in the sorrel sit Where the ladybird alit. I can climb the jointed grass; And on high See the greater swallows pass In the sky, And the round sun rolling by Heeding no such things as I.
Page 260 - SING me a song of a lad that is gone Say, could that lad be I? Merry of soul he sailed on a day Over the sea to Skye.

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