Robert Louis Stephenson

Robert Louis Stephenson (1850-1894)

To Any Reader

 

 

As from the house your mother sees

 

You playing round the garden trees,

 

So you may see, if you will look

 

Through the windows of this book,

 

Another child, far, far away,

 

And in another garden, play.

 

But do not think you can at all,

 

By knocking on the window, call

 

That child to hear you. He intent

 

Is all on his play-business bent.

 

He does not hear; he will not look,

 

Nor yet be lured out of this book.

 

 

For, long ago, the truth to say,

 

He has grown up and gone away,

 

And it is but a child of air

 

That lingers in the garden there.


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