My Shadow
Visto 268 vecesMy Shadow
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 errant sleepy-head,
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.
Misceláneas
Otros poemas de Robert Louis Stevenson (leer al azar)
O DULL cold northern sky,
O brawling sabbath bells,
O feebly twittering Autumn bird that tells
ON now, although the year be done,
Now, although the love be dead,
Dead and gone;
Out of the sun, out of the blast,
Out of the world, alone I passed
Across the moor and through the wood
OVER the land is April,
Over my heart a rose;
Over the high, brown mountain
Summer fading, winter comes--
Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs,
Window robins, winter rooks,
Three of us afloat in the meadow by the swing,
Three of us abroad in the basket on the lea.
Winds are in the air, they are blowing in the sprin
Plain as the glistering planets shine
When winds have cleaned the skies,
Her love appeared, appealed for mine,
LOVE - what is love? A great and aching heart;
Wrung hands; and silence; and a long despair.
Life - what is life? Upon a moorland bare
I ASK good things that I detest,
With speeches fair;
Heed not, I pray Thee, Lord, my breast,
BY sunny market-place and street
Wherever I go my drum I beat,
And wherever I go in my coat of red
