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Robert Louis Stevenson

Robert Louis Stevenson

My Love Was Warm

MY love was warm; for that I crossed
The mountains and the sea,
Nor counted that endeavour lost
That gave my love to me.
 
If that indeed were love at all,
As still, my love, I trow,
By what dear name am I to call
The bond that holds me now

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Other works by Robert Louis Stevenson...
Early in the Morning I Hear on Your Piano

EARLY in the morning I hear on… You (at least, I guess it’s you)… Mostly little minds should take an… While the birds are singing in the…
System

Every night my prayers I say, And get my dinner every day; And every day that I’ve been good… I get an orange after food. The child that is not clean and ne…
Ad Piscatorem

FOR these are sacred fishes all Who know that lord that is the lor… Come to the brim and nose the frie… That sways and can beshadow all th… Nor only so, but have their names,…
To H. F. Brown.

I sit and wait a pair of oars On cis-Elysian river-shores. Where the immortal dead have sate, 'T is mine to sit and meditate; To re-ascend life’s rivulet,
The Celestial Surgeon

IF I have faltered more or less In my great task of happiness; If I have moved among my race And shown no glorious morning face… If beams from happy human eyes
Hail! Childish Slave of Social Rules

HAIL! Childish slaves of social… You had yourselves a hand in makin… How I could shake your faith, ye… If but I thought it worth the sha… I see, and pity you; and then
"She Rested by the Broken Brook"

She rested by the Broken Brook, She drank of Weary Well, She moved beyond my lingering look… Ah, whither none can tell! She came, she went. In other lan…
Duddingstone

WITH caws and chirrupings, the w… In this thin sun rejoice. The Psalm seems but the little ki… That sings with its own voice. The cloud—rifts share their amber…
Skerryvore: The Parallel

Here all is sunny, and when the tr… Skims the green level of the lawn,… Dispetals roses; here the house is… Of kneaded brick and the plumed mo… Such clay as artists fashion and s…
Behold, as Goblins Dark of Mien

Behold, as goblins dark of mien And portly tyrants dyed with crime Change, in the transformation scen… At Christmas, in the pantomime, Instanter, at the prompter’s cough…
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In Memoriam E. H.

I knew a silver head was bright be… I knew a queen of toil with a crow… Garland of valour and sorrow, of b… Life, that honours the brave, crow… The beauties of youth are frail, b…
To W. E. Henley.

The year runs through her phases;… Springtime and summer pass; winter… But one pale season rules the hous… Cold falls the imprisoned daylight… By each lean pallet squats, and pa…
To Mesdames Zassetsky and Garschine

THE wind may blaw the lee—gang wa… And aye the lift be mirk an’ gray, An deep the moss and steigh the br… Where a’ maun gang — There’s still an hoor in ilka day
Embro hie Kirk

The Lord Himsel’ in former days Waled out the proper tunes for pra… An’ named the proper kind o’ claes For folk to preach in: Preceese and in the chief o’ ways
Now When the Number of my Years

NOW when the number of my years Is all fulfilled, and I From sedentary life Shall rouse me up to die, Bury me low and let me lie



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