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Robert Louis Stevenson > A Child’s Garden of Verses and Underwoods > 9. The Little Land |
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| CONTENTS · BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD |
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| Stevenson, Robert Louis (1850–1894). A Child’s Garden of Verses and Underwoods. 1913. |
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9. The Little Land
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| WHEN at home alone I sit | |
| And am very tired of it, | |
| I have just to shut my eyes | |
| To go sailing through the skies— | |
| To go sailing far away | 5 |
| To the pleasant Land of Play; | |
| To the fairy-land afar | |
| Where the Little People are; | |
| Where the clover-tops are trees, | |
| And the rain-pools are the seas, | 10 |
| And the leaves like little ships | |
| Sail about on tiny trips; | |
| And above the daisy tree | |
| Through the grasses, | |
| High o’erhead the Bumble Bee | 15 |
| Hums and passes. | |
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| In that forest to and fro | |
| I can wander, I can go; | |
| See the spider and the fly, | |
| And the ants go marching by | 20 |
| Carrying parcels with their feet | |
| Down the green and grassy street. | |
| I can in the sorrel sit | |
| Where the ladybird alit. | |
| I can climb the jointed grass | 25 |
| And on high | |
| See the greater swallows pass | |
| In the sky, | |
| And the round sun rolling by | |
| Heeding no such things as I. | 30 |
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| Through that forest I can pass | |
| Till, as in a looking-glass, | |
| Humming fly and daisy tree | |
| And my tiny self I see, | |
| Painted very clear and neat | 35 |
| On the rain-pool at my feet. | |
| Should a leaflet come to land | |
| Drifting near to where I stand, | |
| Straight I’ll board that tiny boat | |
| Round the rain-pool sea to float. | 40 |
| Little thoughtful creatures sit | |
| On the grassy coasts of it; | |
| Little things with lovely eyes | |
| See me sailing with surprise. | |
| Some are clad in armour green— | 45 |
| (These have sure to battle been!)— | |
| Some are pied with ev’ry hue, | |
| Black and crimson, gold and blue; | |
| Some have wings and swift are gone;— | |
| But they all look kindly on. | 50 |
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| When my eyes I once again | |
| Open, and see all things plain: | |
| High bare walls, great bare floor; | |
| Great big knobs on drawer and door; | |
| Great big people perched on chairs, | 55 |
| Stitching tucks and mending tears, | |
| Each a hill that I could climb, | |
| And talking nonsense all the time— | |
| O dear me, | |
| That I could be | 60 |
| A sailor on the rain-pool sea, | |
| A climber in the clover tree, | |
| And just come back, a sleepy-head, | |
| Late at night to go to bed. | |
