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I Will Make You Brooches
by
Robert Louis Stevenson


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I will make you brooches and toys for your delight
Of bird-song at morning and star-shine at night.
I will make a palace fit for you and me
Of green days in forests and blue days at sea.
I will make my kitchen, and you shall keep your room,
Where white flows the river and bright blows the broom,
And you shall wash your linen and keep your body white
In rainfall at morning and dewfall at night.
And this shall be for music when no one else is near,
The fine song for singing, the rare song to hear!
That only I remember, that only you admire,
Of the broad road that stretches and the roadside fire.
 
This poem is in the public domain.

 

 

Purchase a framed print of this poem.

Scottish writer Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894) is, for many of us, the first poet to whom we were introduced, through his wonderful book, A Child’s Garden of Verses. Though he came from a family of engineers and it was expected he would follow suit, Robert wrote stories even as a child; no one was really surprised when, three years into his engineering studies at the University of Edinburgh, he abandoned them to study writing. Always an avid traveller, despite lifelong poor health, Robert spent much of his life looking for a place to live that offered some respite from his illnesses. A prolific writer of poetry, fiction (Kidnapped, Treasure Island, and The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hide are his best known), travelogues, and political essays, he is properly revered today as a major literary figure, although in the early twentieth century, he was temporarily dismissed and disdained as "a children's author." Ultimately, Robert ending up living in Samoa, happy and productive until a stroke abruptly ended his life at the age of 44. 

 


Post New Comment:
Richard Greene:
Thanks for posting this, Jayne. Stevenson often surprises me with the beauty of his poems. He deserves more recognition as a poet than he's gotten. Here's another of his. It's on his gravestone. 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 long'd to be; Home is the sailor, home from sea, And the hunter home from the hill
Posted 02/05/2014 09:59 AM
tannerlynne:
he has always been my favorite... since I was a little girl. Thank you for printing this poem of RLS
Posted 02/03/2014 01:28 PM
KevinArnold:
I wonder if he didn't read this out here, where he spent time near the blue sea and green forests near Carmel. Wonderful find. Thank you.
Posted 02/03/2014 08:40 AM
Dorcas:
He puts our visions from fairytales and surfacing images into words and then some.
Posted 02/03/2014 07:04 AM
Ross Kightly:
It's great to be reminded of the fact that as well as being one of the greatest novelists and short story writers in the language RLS was a very accomplished poet! Many thanks for this one, Jayne.
Posted 02/03/2014 04:10 AM


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