{"1": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0001.jp2"}, "2": {"fulltext": "10 o.\\no 0^\\no5\\nV\\n0 o\\nx\\nv-^^\\nOO\\ni^\\n-s-.\\n0\\n.V\\n:)o^\\n0\\naC^\\n,0o\\naV^^\\n.-^^j^r^\\n.0^\\n%^.s\\\\\\nV", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0002.jp2"}, "3": {"fulltext": "0^\\n:ir=^\\n0^\\n-S^\\nvt-\\nI.V\\n-^c^", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0003.jp2"}, "4": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0004.jp2"}, "5": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0005.jp2"}, "6": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0006.jp2"}, "7": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0007.jp2"}, "8": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0008.jp2"}, "9": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0011.jp2"}, "10": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0012.jp2"}, "11": {"fulltext": "THE POEMS\\nOF\\nROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON\\nWITH AN INTRODUCTION\\nBY\\nWILLIAM P. TRENT\\nNEW YORK\\nTHOMAS Y. CROWELL CO.\\nPUBLISHERS\\nr O", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0013.jp2"}, "12": {"fulltext": "r \\\\^^A\\n74119\\nCopyright, igoo,\\nBy THOMAS Y. CROWELL CO.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0014.jp2"}, "13": {"fulltext": "CONTENTS.\\nA Child\\ns Garden of Verses\\nI.\\nBed in Summer\\n11.\\nA Thought\\nIII.\\nAt the Sea-side\\nIV.\\nYoung Night Thought\\nV.\\nWhole Duty of Children\\nVI.\\nRain\\nVII.\\nPirate Story\\nVIII.\\nForeign Lands\\nIX.\\nWindy Nights\\nX.\\nTravel\\nXI.\\nSinging\\nXII.\\nLooking Forward\\nXIII.\\nA Good Play\\nXIV.\\nWhere go the Boats\\nXV.\\nAuntie s Skirts\\nXVI.\\nThe Land of Counterpane\\nXVII.\\nThe Land of Nod\\nXVIII.\\nMy Shadow\\nXIX.\\nSystem\\nXX.\\nA Good Boy\\nXXI,\\nEscape at Bedtime\\nXXII.\\nMarching S(jng\\nXXIII.\\nThe Cow\\n13\\n14\\n17\\n18\\n19\\n20\\n21\\n22\\n23\\n24\\n26\\n27\\n29\\n31\\n32", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0015.jp2"}, "14": {"fulltext": "IV\\nCONTENTS.\\nXXIV. Happy Thought\\nXXV. The Wind\\nXXVI. Keepsake Mill\\nXXVII. Good and Bad Children\\nXXVIII. Foreign Children\\nXXIX. The Sun s Travels\\nXXX. The Lamplighter\\nXXXI. My Bed is a Boat\\nXXXII. The Moon\\nXXXIII. The Swing\\nXXXIV. Time to Rise\\nXXXV, Looking-glass River\\nXXXVI. Fairy Bread\\nXXXVIL From a Railway Carriage\\nXXXVIII. Winter-Time\\nXXXIX. The Hayloft\\nXL. Farewell to the Farm\\nXLI. North-west Passage\\nThe Child Alone\\nI. The Unseen Playmate\\nII. My Ship and I\\nIII. My Kingdom\\nIV. Picture-Books in W inter\\nV. My Treasures\\nVI. Block City\\nVII. The Land of Story-Books\\nVIII. Armies in the Fire\\nIX. The Little Land\\nGarden Days\\nI. Night and Day\\nII. Nest Eggs", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0016.jp2"}, "15": {"fulltext": "CONTENTS.\\nIII. The Flowers\\nIV. Summer Sun\\nV. The Dumb Soldier\\nVI. Autumn Fires\\nVII. The Gardener\\nVIII. Historical Associations\\nEnvoys\\nI. To Willie and Henrietta\\nII. To my Mother\\nIII. To Auntie\\nIV. To Minnie\\nV. To my Name-Child\\nVI. To Any Reader\\nThe Song of RAHfeRO\\nThe Feast of Famine\\nTiCONDEROGA\\nHeather Ale\\nChristmas at Sea\\nUnderwoods\\nBook I. In English\\nI. Envoy\\nII. A Song of the Road\\nIII. The Canoe speaks\\nIV. It is the Season now to Go\\nV. The House Beautiful\\nVI. A Visit from the Sea", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0017.jp2"}, "16": {"fulltext": "vi\\nCONTENTS.\\nVII.\\nTo a Gardener\\nVIII.\\nTo Minnie\\nIX.\\nTo K. de M.\\nX.\\nTo N. V. de G. S.\\nXL\\nTo Will. H. Low\\nXII.\\nTo Mrs. Will. H. Low\\nXIII.\\nTo H. F. Brown\\nXIV.\\nTo Andrew Lang\\nXV.\\nEt tu in Arcadia Vixisti\\nXVI.\\nTo W. E. Henley\\nXVII.\\nHenry James\\nXVIII.\\nThe Mirror speaks\\nXIX.\\nKatharine\\nXX.\\nTo F. J. S.\\nXXI.\\nRequiem\\nXXII.\\nThe Celestial Surgeon\\nXXIII.\\nOur Lady of the Snows\\nXXIV.\\nNot yet, my Soul\\nXXV.\\nIt is not yours, O Mother\\nXXVI.\\nThe Sick Child\\nXXVII.\\nIn Memoriam F. A. S.\\nXXVIII.\\nTo my Father\\nXXIX.\\nIn the States\\nXXX.\\nA Portrait\\nXXXI.\\nSing Clear lier, Muse\\nXXXII.\\nA Camp\\nXXXIII.\\nThe Country of the Camisards\\nXXXIV.\\nSkerryvore\\nXXXV.\\nSkerryvore; the Parallel\\nXXXVI.\\nMy House, I say\\nXXXVII.\\nMy Body, which my Dungeon is\\nXXXVIII.\\nSay not of me that Weakly I\\nDecli\\nned", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0018.jp2"}, "17": {"fulltext": "CONTENTS. vii\\nBook II. In Scots\\nI. The Maker to Posterity\\nXL Ille Terrarum\\nIII. When Aince xAprile has fairly come\\nIV. A Mile an a Bittock\\nV. A Lowden Sabbath Morn\\nVI. The Spaewife\\nVII. The Blast\u00e2\u0080\u0094 1875\\nVIII. The Counterblast\u00e2\u0080\u0094 18S6\\nIX. The Counterblast Ironical\\nX. Their Laureate to an Academy Class\\nDinner Club\\nXI. Embro Hie Kirk\\nXII. The Scotsman s Return from Abroad\\nXIII. Late in the Nicht\\nXIV. My Conscience\\nXV. To Doctor John Brown\\nXVI. It s an Owercome Sooth for x\\\\ge an\\nYouth 376\\nPAGE\\n324\\n327\\n33^\\n333\\n335\\n343\\n345\\n347\\n351\\n353\\n357\\n361\\n366\\n370\\n372", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0019.jp2"}, "18": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0020.jp2"}, "19": {"fulltext": "INTRODUCTION.\\nIt is quite plain from passages in his recently pub-\\nlished correspondence that, while Stevenson took not\\na little interest in his verses and had a poet s proper\\nambitions, he did not conceive himself to be an adept\\nin the poetic art. In this regard his rare critical\\nfaculty did not betray him. He was pa) excellence a\\nwriter of prose romances, and, unlike many other\\nfamous authors, had few illusions about his work in\\nthe higher category. He did not, like his great pred-\\necessor, Scott, begin with poetry and descend to\\nprose but he was just as willing to disclaim all seri-\\nous aspirations for the laurel crown as Scott was to\\nresign to Byron the hallowed bays which the lat-\\nter had twitted him with unworthily receiving from\\nMilton, Dryden, Pope alike forgot.\\nYet the world has not been willing to remember\\nScott in one role only, and it is quite likely that it will\\npursue the same course with regard to Stevenson.\\nPerhaps it may even go so far as to forget the younger\\nwriter s fiction, save that Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll\\nand Mr. Hyde, the central conception of which is\\ntoo powerful to be easily forgotten, and to remember\\nhim rather as the author of A Child s Garden of\\nVerses and of sundry excellent poems, letters, and", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0021.jp2"}, "20": {"fulltext": "X INTRODUCTION.\\nessays, than as the versatile romancer who charmed\\nhis own generation. Verse, as we all know, if it be\\nabove mediocrity, has a better chance of life than\\nprose its finer qualities, especially that of compres-\\nsion, make for it a place in our memories, or at least in\\nour anthologies.\\nNow Stevenson s verse, whether or not he was what\\nwe know as a born poet, was in some important\\nrespects distinctly above mediocrity. Those of his\\ncontemporaries, therefore, who admired and loved it\\nhave little need to be ashamed of the favor they\\nshowed it while those who stood aloof from him in\\nhis various roles would do well to reexamine this seg-\\nment of his multifarious work before they calmly\\nassign him to oblivion as a clever, attractive man who\\nfilled a larger space in the workPs regard than his\\nactual merits justified. To the ardent Stevensonian,\\nof course, a hint that partial oblivion may overtake\\nhis favorite that weaver of romances whose own life\\nwas a romance of devoted heroism, that generous,\\nsympathetic critic, that truest of friends, that exqui-\\nsitely poetical soul will seem to be quite ridiculous\\nbut time has often made wrecks of greater reputations\\nthan Stevenson s, and his discreet friends need not be\\nsorry that they have in the present volume a collec-\\ntion of verses which future anthologists are quite sure\\nto rifle. Perhaps, however, it will be as well if we let\\nStevenson s fame take care of itself and turn our atten-\\ntion to his poetry.\\nSetting aside his occasional poems, some of which,\\nas we read them in the two volumes of delightful let-", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0022.jp2"}, "21": {"fulltext": "INTRODUCTION. xi\\nters Mr. Colvin has just given us, seem to prove con-\\nclusively that if Stevenson had only tried he could\\nhave easily rivalled Thackeray or Calverley as a\\nwriter of humorous vers de sociefc, our author s poetry\\ndivides itself naturally, as he saw, into three parts, rep-\\nresented by the volumes entitled A Child s Garden\\nof Verses (1885), Underwoods (1887), and Bal-\\nlads (1890). When after his death his unpublished\\nand scattered verses were collected, they quite inevi-\\ntably made a third book of Underwoods with the\\ntitle of Songs of Travel and Other Verses (1896).\\nIn other words, Stevenson wrote poems for the young,\\nshort pieces upon occasional subjects much as Ben\\nJonson, from whom he borrowed the title Under-\\nwoods, had done before him, and narrative poems in\\nballad form upon South Sea and Highland legends.\\nThe body of verse thus brought together was large\\nenough to serve as a basis for a very high, though\\nprobably not the highest, poetic fame in range, the\\nmatter of quality being waived, it was sufficiently com-\\nprehensive to place the poet above the crowded class\\nof the merely minor writers of verse. Although he\\ndied young, he had nevertheless passed the age when\\nmany poets begin to flag in originality. It follows,\\ntherefore, that Stevenson s poetry should not be\\ntreated as a mere aside in a busy life there is evi-\\ndence enough in the Letters that he devoted seri-\\nous thought to it that he had as fair a chance to\\nwin high poetic fame as many another poet who has\\nmade his name a household word, and that in the\\ndetermination of his rank as a poet the main question", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0023.jp2"}, "22": {"fulltext": "xii INTRODUCTION.\\nrelates to the quality of his work. What, then, is the\\nquality of each of the three divisions\\nWith regard to A Child s Garden of Verses,\\nwhich was begun in the summer of 1881 at Braemar\\nduring one of the few visits the already chronic inva-\\nlid dared to make to his beloved Highlands, and was\\npractically finished at Hyeres in the spring of 1883,\\nafter he had as it were found his vocation in Treas-\\nure Island, few competent readers have ever had the\\nleast doubt that it is a masterpiece of its kind.\\nStevenson, in his humorous way, called it for a long\\ntime Penny Whistles but the characteristic letter\\nin which he told his old nurse, Alison Cunningham,\\nthat he intended to dedicate it to her proves, if proof\\nbe needed, that he must have felt that he was doing\\na piece of work altogether admirable. His childhood\\nhad been checkered with illness, but it had been that\\nrare thing in these modern days, a real childhood.\\nIndeed, he never throughout his life ceased to be\\na child, as an acute French critic, M. de Wyzewa\\nhas recently remarked apropos of the correspondence.\\nHence, when he laid out his Garden, he actually\\ntook walks in it, he swung in its trees, peeped over\\nits wall. He made a wonderfully successful book\\nbecause he based it on real experience, just as Daudet\\nhad done a few years before in the first part of Le\\nPetit Chose, that delightful picture of French boyhood.\\nHe put himself into it, and as he was still half a child,\\nand as all children, whether British or French or\\nSamoan, delighted him and he them, he was sure to\\nplease every juvenile reader, while, being his whimsi-", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0024.jp2"}, "23": {"fulltext": "INTRODUCTION. xiii\\ncal, clever, lovable self, he was sure to please adult\\nreaders just as much or more. It was this realistic\\nelement of his work that made the poem beginning,\\nWe built a ship upon the stairs\\nAll made of the back-bedroom chairs,\\nAnd filled it full of sofa pillows\\nTo go a-sailing on the billows,\\na chef-d ceuvre of poetry for the young, as many a\\nmother can testify. It was this same element that\\ngave the irresistible touch, so far as adults are con-\\ncerned, to these four lines\\nWhen I am grown to man s estate\\nI shall be very proud and great.\\nAnd tell the other girls and boys\\nNot to meddle with my toys.\\nSuch touches are absent from Blake s Songs of\\nInnocence, and hence these divine poems, which of\\ncourse represent poetic heights to which Stevenson\\ndid not attain, have never been really popular with\\neither old or young. It may seem odd to speak of\\nrealism in connection with the romantic Stevenson\\nbut when we set his work beside that of an idealist\\nlike Blake, we see that realism is the only term we can\\nproperly use, and that it goes far toward explaining the\\nsuccess the Garden has had and is likely to con-\\ntinue to have.\\nIt is, perhaps, odder still, however, to go on prosing\\nabout such exquisite, fragile works of art or nature\\nif you will as these delightful poems. What has\\nthe heavy-handed critic to do with them Nothing,", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0025.jp2"}, "24": {"fulltext": "xiv INTRODUCTION,\\nsurely, save to wish that he could be a child once\\nmore in order really to enjoy them. As a child he\\nwould not notice the few infelicities which as a dis-\\ncreet man he refrains from specifying. He would\\nsimply class Stevenson as a benefactor along with\\nLewis Carroll and Edward Lear and our own\\nWhitcomb Riley, and would not concern himself with\\nquestions of relative originality and merit, or with the\\nfact that the Garden is after all but a mere fra-\\ngrant parterre in the wide domain of the greater\\nwriter s works.\\nPassing to Underwoods, however, we find more\\nfor the critic to do yet, when we can secure so com-\\npetent a critic as Stevenson, and when we find that\\nhe is remarkably disinterested with regard to his own\\nwork, why should we go farther\\nIn May, 1883, Stevenson was evidently trying his\\nhand on verses for older readers. He wrote to Mr.\\nW. E. Henley I am now a great wTiter of verses.\\nI have the mania now like my betters, and\\nfaith, if I live till I am forty, I shall have a book of\\nrhymes like Pollock, Gosse, or whom you please.\\nReally, I have begun to learn the rudiments of that\\ntrade, and have written three or four pretty enough\\npieces of octosyllabic nonsense, semi-serious, semi-\\nsmiling a kind of prose Herrick divested of the gift\\nof verse, and you behold the Bard. But I like it.\\nThis is eminently sane an understatement, to\\nbe sure, but based on clear perceptions. Stevenson\\nwas a kinsman of Herrick, but he did not have the\\nlatter s gift of singing. Indeed, who has had it\\namong the moderns", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0026.jp2"}, "25": {"fulltext": "INTRODUCTION. xv\\nFour years later, when he was getting in sight of\\nforty, the occasional verses had grown into the vol-\\nume he anticipated. In September, 1887, he wrote to\\nMr. Sidney Colvin The success of Underwoods is\\ngratifying. You see the verses are sane that is their\\nstrong point, and it seems it is strong enough to carry\\nthem. Again his criticism was singularly acute and\\njust. The verses were sane, and furnished a most\\nwholesome and pleasant contrast to the triolets and\\nrondeaux and other delicate though rather decadent\\npoems with which the readers of the day had been\\nsatiated. They did not play upon the chords of racial\\npride and prejudice, or open up a new region for the\\nimagination to wander in, as the verses of Mr, Kip-\\nling were soon to do but they pleased Stevenson s\\nfriends and won him others. On December 6, of the\\nsame year, he was able to write as follows to his\\nfriend John Addington Symonds I wonder if you\\nsaw my book of verses It went into a second\\nedition, because of my name, I suppose, and its prose\\nmerits. I do not set up to be a poet only an all-\\nround literary man a man who talks, not one who\\nsings. But I believe the very fact that it was only\\nspeech served the book with the public. Horace is\\nmuch a speaker, and see how popular Excuse\\nthis little apology for my house but I don t like to\\ncome before people who have a note of song, and let\\nit be supposed I do not know the difference.\\nFurther quotations are needless, save one from a\\nletter to Mr. Colvin written December 14, 1886, in\\nwhich, after announcing that he has been takint{ his", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0027.jp2"}, "26": {"fulltext": "xvi INTRODUCTION.\\nbardly exercises in Scotch, he adds, with what\\nsuccess, I know not, but I think it s better than my\\nEnglish verse more marrow and fatness, and more\\nruggedness.\\nIt is as easy to disagree with this last particular\\njudgment as it is to agree with Stevenson s general\\nestimate of his performance in verse. The sixteen\\nScotch poems are assuredly not bad, but too many of\\nthem suggest that the writer knew his Burns and his\\nFergusson, for the latter of whom he had a most gen-\\nerous affection, a little over well. His own authentic\\nvoice seems to come out most clearly and strongly\\nwhen, as in the last poem of the collection, lie aban-\\ndons the stanza they have preempted, and sings\\nsimply and truly as in these lines\\nThere are kind hearts still, for friends to fill\\nAnd fools to take and break them\\nBut the nearest friends are the auldest friends\\nAnd the grave s the place to seek them.\\nOne Scotch word alone flavors this stanza, but do\\nwe want any more It must not be supposed, how-\\never, that he does not write well in more or less pure\\nScotch. The letter from Mr. Thomson to Mr. John-\\nstone, with its praise not in Burns s stanza of\\nScotch whiskey and Scotch preaching, is excellent.\\nThere are first-rate lines and stanzas too, such as\\nand\\nThe tack o mankind, near the dregs,\\nRins unco law\\nLove, \\\\vi her auld recruitin drum\\nThan taks the gate", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0028.jp2"}, "27": {"fulltext": "INTRODUCTION. xvii\\nand\\nAne went hame \\\\vi the ither, an then\\nThe ither went hame wi the ither twa men,\\nAn baith wad return him the service again,\\nAn the miine was shinin clearly.\\nYet even here do we not seem to catch a note of\\nBurns? And are not the letters written in Scotch,,\\nespecially that of November 13, 1884, to Charles Bax-\\nter, in some ways more remarkable than the verses\\nandvat least unsuggestive of exercises bardly\\nor other?\\nAs for the English poems, whether of 1887 or of\\n1896, although not great, they are often very delightful\\nand occasionally linger in the memory. They lack\\npoetical elaboration, their author being either obliged\\nor tempted to work his octosyllabics and other simple\\nmeasures almost to the point of exhaustion yet after\\nall much of the charm that undoubtedly attends the\\nverses comes from their unelaboration which in turn\\ncomes from Stevenson s sincerity and sanity. What\\nmatters it if octosyllabics do tend to become slipshod\\nwhen they are used by a man who can give us lines\\nlike these?\\nYet shall your ragged moor receive\\nThe incomparable pomp of eve.\\nAnd the cold glories of the dawn\\nBehind your shivering trees be drawn.\\nWhat matter again if the envoy be plain Herrick,\\nif Catullus did write his Phaselus ille nearly two\\nthousand years before Stevenson thought of letting", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0029.jp2"}, "28": {"fulltext": "xviii INTRODUCTION,\\nhis own canoe make a pretty speech that was never\\nfinished What matter if such Hnes as\\nService still craving service, love for love,\\nLove for dear love, still suppliant with tears,\\nare pure Tennyson, when it is abundantly clear that\\nour poet, who would one natural verse recapture,\\nhad his wish granted over and often? The author of\\nThe House Beautiful, To a Cxardener, Et Tu\\nin Arcadia Vixisti/ Requiem, Our Lady of the\\nSnows, In Memoriam F. A. S., Sing clearlier.\\nMuse and these titles by no means exhaust the\\nlist of good or excellent poems has a full right to\\nsay, with Alfred de Musset, that his glass may be a\\nsmall one, but that it is his own.\\nNor is Stevenson at his best only in such unelabo-\\nrate appealing stanzas as\\nThis be the verse you grave for me\\n//ere he lies tvhere he longed to be\\n//onie is the sailor, home from sea,\\nAnd the hunter home from the hill!\\nHe is capable of blank verse that satisfies the most\\nfastidious ear and of imaginative passages that greater\\npoets would not have disdained. Take for example\\nthese fine lines from Et Tu in Arcadia Vixisti.\\nAs when the Indian to Dakota comes\\nOr farthest Idaho, and where he dwelt,\\nHe with his clan, a humming city finds\\nThereon a while, amazed, he stares, and then\\nTo right and leftward, like a questing dog,\\nSeeks first the ancestral altars, then the hearth", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0030.jp2"}, "29": {"fulltext": "INTRODUCTION. xix\\nLong cold with rains, and where old terror lodged,\\nAnd where the dead. So thee undying Hope,\\nWith all her pack, hunts screaming through the years\\nHere, there, thou fleeest but nor here nor there\\nThe pleasant gods abide, the glory dwells.\\nPerhaps the cultured reader may connect this pas-\\nsage in a vague way with the Homeric simile as util-\\nized^by Matthew Arnold, he may even think of the\\nmovement of some of Bryant s stately verses, but if\\nhe is wise he will merely re-read the lines and enjoy\\nthem. If they effect nothing else, they will at least\\nprove an antidote to some of Stevenson s lapses, as\\nfor example when he thus apostrophizes Mr. Henley,\\nO thou, Orpheus and Heracles, the bard\\nAnd the deliverer, touch the stops again\\nor when he discovers in our own distinguished country-\\nman in exile, Mr. Henry James, the Prince of Men.\\nWith regard to the five poems grouped as Bal-\\nlads, the less said the better. It is evident from\\nmany passages in his letters that Stevenson was much\\ninterested in them during their composition, that he\\nthought that they at least had narrative merits, and\\nthat he hoped the public would enjoy them. It is\\nequally evident, however, that, as in much of his seri-\\nously planned prose devoted to the South Seas, he\\nfailed of his purpose. The public remained cold.\\nEven so devoted an admirer as Mr. Colvin does not\\npretend to like the Ballads. At least one reader\\nwho in the main enjoys Stevenson would rather re-read\\nThe Island, that far from great performance of", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0031.jp2"}, "30": {"fulltext": "XX INTRODUCTION.\\nByron, who never saw the Pacific, than these verses of\\nStevenson, who knew the South Seas as probably no\\nother EngHsh writer has ever done. Perhaps some\\nreaders will care for them simply because they deal\\nwith out-of-the-way subjects but others will find\\ntheir main profit in reflecting that we have in them a\\nstriking additional proof of the fact that great con-\\nscientiousness, knowledge, and industrious devotion\\non the part of a poet will not suffice to turn his verses\\ninto poetry.\\nIt does not seem fair, however, to take leave of so\\nadmirable a writer as Stevenson with such negations\\nand reservations. If his note is not often that of the\\nborn singer, it is never less than that of a brave, true\\nman whose abundant culture and his feeble health did\\nnot deaden his love for his fellows or his capacity for\\nmaking life a pleasure and a service. His poetry\\ndoes not represent him fully no phase of his multi-\\nfarious w^ork does that, and perhaps his fame will\\nultimately suflfer through the fact but at least his\\nverses are not factitious, they are a definite if small\\naddition to our literature, and they give a crowning\\ngrace to the fascinating life-work of a singularly noble\\ncharacter.\\nW. P. TRENT.\\nFebruary 28, 1900.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0032.jp2"}, "31": {"fulltext": "A CHILD S GARDEN OF\\nVERSES.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0033.jp2"}, "32": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0034.jp2"}, "33": {"fulltext": "I.\\nBED IN SUMMER.\\nIn winter I get up at night\\nAnd dress by yellow candle-light.\\nIn summer, quite the other way,\\nI have to go to bed by day.\\nI have to go to bed and see\\nThe birds still hopping on the tree,\\nOr hear the grown-up people s feet\\nStill going past me in the street.\\nAnd does it not seem hard to you,\\nWhen all the sky is clear and blue,\\nAnd I should like so much to play,\\nTo have to go to bed by day?", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0035.jp2"}, "34": {"fulltext": "II.\\nA THOUGHT.\\nIt is very nice to think\\nThe world is full of meat and drink,\\nWith little children saying grace\\nIn every Christian kind of place.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0036.jp2"}, "35": {"fulltext": "III.\\nAT THE SEA-SIDE.\\nWhen I was down beside the sea\\nA wooden spade they gave to me\\nTo dig the sandy shore.\\nMy holes were empty like a cup.\\nIn every hole the sea came up,\\nTill it could come no more.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0037.jp2"}, "36": {"fulltext": "IV.\\nYOUNG NIGHT THOUGHT,\\nAll night long and every night,\\nWhen my mama puts out the light,\\nI see the people marching by,\\nAs plain as day, before my eye.\\nArmies and emperors and kings.\\nAll carrying different kinds of things,\\nAnd marching in so grand a way.\\nYou never saw the like by day.\\nSo fine a show was never seen\\nAt the great circus on the green;\\nFor every kind of beast and man\\nIs marching in that caravan.\\nAt first they move a little slow,\\nBut still the faster on they go.\\nAnd still beside them close I keep\\nUntil we reach the town of Sleep.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0038.jp2"}, "37": {"fulltext": "V.\\nWHOLE DUTY OF CHILDREN.\\nA CHILD should always say what s true\\nAnd speak when he is spoken to,\\nAnd behave mannerly at table;\\nAt least as far as he is able.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0039.jp2"}, "38": {"fulltext": "VI\\nRAIN.\\nThe rain is raining all around,\\nIt falls on field and tree,\\nIt rains on the umbrellas here,\\nAnd on the ships at sea.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0040.jp2"}, "39": {"fulltext": "VII.\\nPIRATE STORY.\\nThree of us afloat in the meadow by the\\nswing,\\nThree of us aboard in the basket on the lea.\\nWinds are in the air, they are blowing in the\\nspring,\\nAnd waves are on the meadow like the waves\\nthere are at sea.\\nWhere shall we adventure, to-day that we re\\nafloat.\\nWary of the weather and steering by a star?\\nShall it be to Africa, a-steering of the boat,\\nTo Providence, or Babylon, or off to Malabar\\nHi but here s a squadron a-rowing on the\\nsea\\nCattle on the meadow a-charging with a\\nroar\\n9", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0041.jp2"}, "40": {"fulltext": "10 PIRATE STORY.\\nQuick, and sve 11 escape them, they re as mad\\nas they can be,\\nThe wicket is the harbour and the garden is\\nthe shore.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0042.jp2"}, "41": {"fulltext": "VIII.\\nFOREIGN LANDS.\\nUp into the cherry tree\\nWho should dimb but httle me?\\nI held the trunk with both my hands\\nAnd looked abroad on foreign lands.\\nI saw the next door garden lie,\\nAdorned with flowers, before m}- eye,\\nAnd many pleasant places more\\nThat I had never seen before.\\nI saw the dimpling river pass\\nAnd be the sky s blue looking-glass;\\nThe dusty roads go up and down\\nWith people tramping in to town.\\nIf I could find a higher tree\\nFarther and farther I should see,\\nTo where the grown-up river slips\\nInto the sea among the ships,\\n11", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0043.jp2"}, "42": {"fulltext": "12 FOREIGN LANDS.\\nTo where the roads on either hand\\nLead onward into fliiry land,\\nWhere all the children dine at five,\\nAnd all the playthings come alive.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0044.jp2"}, "43": {"fulltext": "IX.\\nWINDY NIGHTS.\\nWhenever the moon and stars are set,\\nWhenever the wind is high,\\nAll night long in the dark and wet,\\nA man goes riding by.\\nLate in the night when the fires are out.\\nWhy does he gallop and gallop about?\\nW^henever the trees are crying aloud,\\nAnd ships are tossed at sea.\\nBy, on the highway, low and loud.\\nBy at the gallop goes he.\\nBy at the gallop he goes, and then\\nBy he comes back at the gallop again.\\n13", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0045.jp2"}, "44": {"fulltext": "X.\\nTRAVEL.\\nI SHOULD like to rise and go\\nWhere the golden apples grow;\\nWhere below another sky\\nParrot islands anchored lie,\\nAnd, watched by cockatoos and goats,\\nLonely Crusoes building boats;\\nWhere in sunshine reaching out\\nEastern cities, miles about,\\nAre with mosque and minaret\\nAmong sandy gardens set,\\nAnd the rich goods from near and far\\nHang for sale in the bazaar;\\nWhere the Great Wall round China goes.\\nAnd on one side the desert blows,\\nAnd with bell and voice and drum,\\nCities on the other hum;\\nWhere are forests, hot as fire.\\nWide as England, tall as a spire,\\n14", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0046.jp2"}, "45": {"fulltext": "TRAVEL. 15\\nFull of apes and cocoa-nuts\\nAnd the negro hunters huts;\\nWhere the knotty crocodile\\nLies and blinks in the Nile,\\nAnd the red flamingo flies\\nHunting fish before his eyes;\\nWhere in jungles, near and far,\\nMan-devouring tigers are,\\nLying close and giving ear\\nLest the hunt be drawing near,\\nOr a comer-by be seen\\nSwinging in a palanquin;\\nWhere among the desert sands\\nSome deserted city stands,\\nAll its children, sweep and prince,\\nGrown to manhood ages since.\\nNot a foot in street or house.\\nNot a stir of child or mouse,\\nAnd when kindly falls the night,\\nIn all the town no spark of light.\\nThere I 11 come when I m a man\\nWith a camel caravan;\\nLight a fire in the gloom\\nOf some dusty dining room;", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0047.jp2"}, "46": {"fulltext": "16 TRAVEL\\nSee the pictures on the walls,\\nHeroes, fights and festivals;\\nAnd in a corner find the toys\\nOf the old Egyptian boys.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0048.jp2"}, "47": {"fulltext": "XI.\\nSINGING.\\nOf speckled eggs the birdie sings\\nAnd nests among the trees;\\nThe sailor sings of ropes and things\\nIn ships upon the seas.\\nThe children sing in far Japan,\\nThe children sing in Spain;\\nThe organ with the organ man\\nIs singing in the rain.\\n17", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0049.jp2"}, "48": {"fulltext": "XII.\\nLOOKING FORWARD.\\nWhen I am grown to man s estate\\nI shall be very proud and great,\\nAnd tell the other girls and boys\\nNot to meddle with my toys.\\n18", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0050.jp2"}, "49": {"fulltext": "XIII.\\nA GOOD PLAY.\\nWe built a ship upon the stairs\\nAll made of the back-bedroom chairs,\\nAnd filled it full of sofa pillows\\nTo go a-sailing on the billows.\\nWe took a saw and several nails,\\nAnd water in the nursery pails;\\nAnd Tom said, Let us also take\\nAn apple and a slice of cake;\\nWhich was enough for Tom and me\\nTo go a-sailing on, till tea.\\nWe sailed along for days and days,\\nAnd had the very best of plays;\\nBut Tom fell out and hurt his knee,\\nSo there was no one left but me.\\n19", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0051.jp2"}, "50": {"fulltext": "XIV.\\nWHERE GO THE BOATS?\\nDark brown is the river,\\nGolden is the sand.\\nIt flows along for ever,\\nWith trees on either hand.\\nGreen leaves a-floating,\\nCastles of the foam,\\nBoats of mine a-boating\\nWhere will all come home?\\nOn goes the river\\nAnd out past the mill,\\nAway down the valley,\\nAway down the hill.\\nAway down the river,\\nA hundred miles or more.\\nOther little children\\nShall bring my boats ashore.\\n20", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0052.jp2"}, "51": {"fulltext": "XV.\\nAUNTIE S SKIRTS.\\nWhenever Auntie moves around,\\nHer dresses make a curious sound;\\nThey trail behind her up the floor,\\nAnd trundle after through the door.\\n21", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0053.jp2"}, "52": {"fulltext": "XVI.\\nTHE LAND OF COUNTERPANE.\\nWhen I was sick and lay a-bed,\\nI had two pillows at my head,\\nAnd all my toys beside me lay\\nTo keep me happy all the day.\\nAnd sometimes for an hour or so\\nI watched my leaden soldiers go,\\nWith different uniforms and drills,\\nAmong the bed-clothes, through the hills;\\nAnd sometimes sent my ships in fleets\\nAll up and down among the sheets;\\nOr brought my trees and houses out,\\nAnd planted cities all about.\\nI was the giant great and still\\nThat sits upon the pillow-hill.\\nAnd sees before him, dale and plain,\\nThe pleasant land of counterpane.\\n22", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0054.jp2"}, "53": {"fulltext": "The Land of the Counterpane.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0055.jp2"}, "54": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0056.jp2"}, "55": {"fulltext": "XVII.\\nTHE LAND OF NOD.\\nFroi\\\\i breakfast on through all the day\\nAt home among my friends I stay;\\nBut every night I go abroad\\nAfar into the land of Nod.\\nAll by myself I have to go,\\nWith none to tell me what to do\\nAll alone beside the streams\\nAnd up the mountain-sides of dreams.\\nThe strangest things are there for me,\\nBoth things to eat and things to see,\\nx^nd many frightening sights abroad\\nTill morning in the land of Nod.\\nTry as I like to find the way,\\nI never can get back by day.\\nNor can remember plain and clear\\nThe curious music that I hear.\\n23", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0057.jp2"}, "56": {"fulltext": "XVIII.\\nMY SHADOW.\\nI HAVE a little shadow that goes in and out with\\nme,\\nAnd what can be the use of him is more than\\nI can see.\\nHe is very, very like me from the heels up to\\nthe head;\\nAnd I see him jump before me, when I jump\\ninto my bed.\\nThe funniest thing about him is the way he\\nlikes to grow\\nNot at all like proper children, which is always\\nvery slow;\\nFor he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-\\nrubber ball,\\nAnd he sometimes gets so little that there s\\nnone of him at all.\\n24", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0058.jp2"}, "57": {"fulltext": "MY SHADOIV. 25\\nHe hasn t got a notion of how children ought\\nto play,\\nAnd can only make a fool of me in every sort\\nof way.\\nHe stays so close beside me, he s a coward\\nyou can see;\\nI d think shame to stick to nursie as that\\nshadow sticks to me\\nOne morning, very early, before the sun was\\nup,\\nI rose and found the shining dew on every\\nbuttercup\\nBut my lazy little shadow, like an arrant\\nsleepy-head.\\nHad stayed at home behind me and was fast\\nasleep in bed.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0059.jp2"}, "58": {"fulltext": "XIX.\\nSYSTEM.\\nEvery night my prayers I say,\\nAnd get my dinner every day;\\nAnd every day that I ve been good,\\nI get an orange after food.\\nThe child that is not clean and neat,\\nWith lots of toys and things to eat,\\nHe is a naughty child, I m sure\\nOr else his dear papa is poor.\\n26", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0060.jp2"}, "59": {"fulltext": "XX.\\nA GOOD BOY.\\nI WOKE before the morning, I was happy all\\nthe day,\\nI never said an ugly word, but smiled and\\nstuck to play.\\nAnd now at last the sun is going down behind\\nthe wood.\\nAnd I am very happy, for I know that I ve\\nbeen good.\\nMy bed is waiting cool and fresh, with linen\\nsmooth and fair,\\nAnd I must off to sleepsin-by, and not forget\\nmy prayer.\\nI know that, till to-morrow I shall see the sun\\narise,\\nNo ugly dream shall fright my mind, no ugly\\nsight my eyes.\\n27", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0061.jp2"}, "60": {"fulltext": "28 A GOOD BOY.\\nBut slumber hold me tightly till I waken in\\nthe dawn,\\nAnd hear the thrushes singing in the lilacs\\nround the lawn.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0062.jp2"}, "61": {"fulltext": "XXI.\\nESCAPE AT BEDTIME.\\nThe lights from the parlour and kitchen shone\\nout\\nThrough the blinds and the windows and\\nbars;\\nAnd high overhead and all moving about,\\nThere were thousands of millions of stars.\\nThere ne er were such thousands of leaves on\\na tree,\\nNor of people in church or the Park,\\nAs the crowds of the stars that looked down\\nupon me,\\nAnd that glittered and winked in the dark.\\nThe Dog, and the Plough, and the Hunter, and\\nall.\\nAnd the star of the sailor, and Mars,\\nThese shone in the sky, and the pail by the\\nwall\\nWould be half full of water and stars.\\n29", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0063.jp2"}, "62": {"fulltext": "30 ESCAPE AT BEDTIME.\\nThey saw me at last, and they chased me with\\ncries,\\nAnd they soon had me packed into bed;\\nBut the glory kept shining and bright in my\\neyes,\\nAnd the stars going round in my head.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0064.jp2"}, "63": {"fulltext": "XXII.\\nMARCHING SONG.\\nBring the comb and play upon it!\\nMarching, here we come\\nWillie cocks his highland bonnet,\\nJohnnie beats the drum.\\nMary Jane commands the party,\\nPeter leads the rear;\\nFeet in time, alert and hearty,\\nEach a Grenadier!\\nAll in the most martial manner\\nMarching double-quick;\\nWhile the napkin like a banner\\nWaves upon the stick!\\nHere s enough of fame and pillage.\\nGreat commander Jane\\nNow that we ve been round the village.\\nLet s go home again.\\n31", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0065.jp2"}, "64": {"fulltext": "XXIII.\\nTHE COW.\\nThe friendly cow all red and white,\\nI love with all my heart:\\nShe gives me cream with all her might,\\nTo eat with apple-tart.\\nShe wanders lowing here and there,\\nAnd yet she cannot stray,\\nAll in the pleasant open air,\\nThe pleasant light of day;\\nAnd blown by all the winds that pass\\nAnd wet with all the showers,\\nShe walks among the meadow grass\\nAnd eats the meadow flowers.\\n32", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0066.jp2"}, "65": {"fulltext": "XXIV.\\nHAPPY THOUGHT.\\nThe world is so full of a number of things,\\nI m sure we should all be as happy as kings.\\n33", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0067.jp2"}, "66": {"fulltext": "XXV.\\nTHE WIND.\\nI SAW you toss the kites on high\\nAnd blow the birds about the sky;\\nAnd all around I heard you pass,\\nLike ladies skirts across the grass\\nO wind, a-blowing all day long,\\nO wind, that sings so loud a song!\\nI saw the different things you did,\\nBut always you yourself you hid.\\nI felt you push, I heard you call,\\nI could not see yourself at all\\nO wind, a-blowing all day long,\\nO wind, that sings so loud a song!\\nO you that are so strong and cold,\\nO blower, are you young or old?\\nAre you a beast of field and tree.\\nOr just a stronger child than me?\\nO wind, a-blowing all day long,\\nO wind, that sings so loud a song!\\n34", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0068.jp2"}, "67": {"fulltext": "XXVI.\\nKEEPSAKE MILL.\\nOver the borders, a sin without pardon,\\nBreaking the branches and crawling below,\\nOut through the breach in the wall of the\\ngarden,\\nDown by the banks of the river, we go.\\nHere is the mill with the humming of thunder,\\nHere is the weir with the wonder of foam.\\nHere is the sluice with the race running\\nunder\\nMarvellous places, though handy to home\\nSounds of the village grow stiller and stiller,\\nStiller the note of the birds on the hill;\\nDusty and dim are the eyes of the miller.\\nDeaf are his ears with the moil of the mill.\\nYears may go by, and the wheel in the river\\nWheel as it wheels for us, children, to-day,\\n35", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0069.jp2"}, "68": {"fulltext": "36 KEEPSAKE MILL\\nWheel and keep roaring and foaming for ever\\nLong after all of the boys are away.\\nHome from the Indies and home from the\\nocean,\\nHeroes and soldiers we all shall come home;\\nStill we shall find the old mill wheel in\\nmotion,\\nTurning and churning that river to foam.\\nYou with the bean that I gave when we quar-\\nrelled,\\nI with your marble of Saturday last,\\nHonoured and old and all gaily apparelled,\\nHere we shall meet and remember the past.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0070.jp2"}, "69": {"fulltext": "XXVII.\\nGOOD AND BAD CHILDREN.\\nChildren, you are very little,\\nAnd your bones are very brittle;\\nIf you would grow great and stately,\\nYou must try to walk sedately..\\nYou must still be bright and quiet,\\nAnd content with simple diet;\\nAnd remain, through all bewild ring,\\nInnocent and honest children.\\nHappy hearts and happy faces,\\nHappy play in grassy places\\nThat was how, in ancient ages,\\nChildren grew to kings and sages.\\nBut the unkind and the unruly,\\nAnd the sort who eat unduly,\\n37", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0071.jp2"}, "70": {"fulltext": "38 GOOD AND DAD CHILDREN.\\nThey must never hope for glory\\nTheirs is quite a different story!\\nCruel children, crying babies,\\nAll grow up as geese and gabies.\\nHated, as their age increases,\\nBy their nephews and their nieces.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0072.jp2"}, "71": {"fulltext": "XXVIII.\\nFOREIGN CHILDREN.\\nLittle Indian, Sioux or Crow,\\nLittle frosty Eskimo,\\nLittle Turk or Japanee,\\nO! don t you wish that you were me?\\nYou have seen the scarlet trees\\nAnd the lions over seas;\\nYou have eaten ostrich eggs,\\nAnd turned the turtles off their legs.\\nSuch a life is very fine,\\nBut it s not so nice as mine:\\nYou must often, as you trod,\\nHave wearied not to be abroad.\\nYou have curious things to eat,\\nI am fed on proper meat;\\n39", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0073.jp2"}, "72": {"fulltext": "40 FOREIGN CHILDREN.\\nYou must dwell beyond the foam,\\nBut I am safe and live at home.\\nLittle Indian, Sioux or Crow,\\nLittle frosty Eskimo,\\nLittle Turk or Japanee,\\nO! don t you wish that you were me?", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0074.jp2"}, "73": {"fulltext": "XXIX.\\nTHE SUN S TRAVELS.\\nThe sun is not a-bed, when T\\nAt night upon my pillow lie;\\nStill round the earth his way he takes,\\nAnd morning after morning makes.\\nWhile here at home, in shining day.\\nWe round the sunny garden play,\\nEach little Indian sleepy-head\\nIs being kissed and put to bed.\\nAnd when at eve I rise from tea,\\nDay dawns beyond the Atlantic Sea;\\nAnd all the children in the West\\nAre getting up and being dressed.\\n41", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0075.jp2"}, "74": {"fulltext": "XXX.\\nTHE LAMPLIGHTER,\\nMy tea is nearly ready and the sun has left\\nthe sky;\\nIt s time to take the window to see Leerie\\ngoing by;\\nFor every night at teatime and before you take\\nyour seat,\\nWith lantern and with ladder he comes posting\\nup the street.\\nNow Tom would be a driver and Maria go to\\nsea,\\nAnd my papa s a banker and as rich as he\\ncan be;\\nBut I, when I am stronger and can choose\\nwhat I m to do,\\nO Leerie, I 11 go round at night and light the\\nlamps with you\\n42", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0076.jp2"}, "75": {"fulltext": "THE LAMPLIGHTER. 43\\nFor we are very lucky, with a lamp before the\\ndoor,\\nAnd Leerie stops to light it as he lights so\\nmany more;\\nAnd O before you hurry by with ladder and\\nwith light,\\nO Leerie, see a little child and nod to him\\nto-night!", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0077.jp2"}, "76": {"fulltext": "XXXI.\\nMY BED IS A BOAT.\\nMy bed is like a little boat;\\nNurse helps me in when I embark;\\nShe girds me in my sailor s coat\\nAnd starts me in the dark.\\nAt night, I go on board and say\\nGood night to all my friends on shore;\\nI shut my eyes and sail away\\nAnd see and hear no more.\\nAnd sometimes things to bed I take,\\nAs prudent sailors have to do;\\nPerhaps a slice of wedding-cake,\\nPerhaps a toy or two.\\nAll night across the dark we steer;\\nBut when the day returns at last,\\nSafe in my room, beside the pier,\\nI find my vessel fast.\\n44", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0078.jp2"}, "77": {"fulltext": "XXXII.\\nTHE MOON.\\nThe moon has a face like the clock in the hall;\\nShe shines on thieves on the garden wall,\\nOn streets and fields and harbour quays,\\nAnd birdies asleep in the forks of the trees.\\nThe squalling cat and the squeaking mouse,\\nThe howling dog by the door of the house,\\nThe bat that lies in bed at noon,\\nAll love to be out by the light of the moon.\\nBut all of the things that belong to the day\\nCuddle to sleep to be out of her way;\\nAnd flowers and children close their eyes\\nTill up in the morning the sun shall arise.\\n45", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0079.jp2"}, "78": {"fulltext": "THE SWING.\\nHow do you like to go up in a swing,\\nUp in the air so blue?\\nOh, I do think it the pleasantest thing\\nEver a child can do\\nUp in the air and over the wall,\\nTill I can see so wide,\\nRivers and trees and cattle and all\\nOver the countryside\\nTill I look down on the garden green,\\nDown on the roof so brown\\nUp in the air I go flying again,\\nUp in the air and down\\n46", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0080.jp2"}, "79": {"fulltext": "XXXIV.\\nTIME TO RISE.\\nA BIRDIE with a yellow bill\\nHopped upon the window sill,\\nCocked his shining eye and said:\\nAin t you shamed, you sleepy-head!\\n47", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0081.jp2"}, "80": {"fulltext": "XXXV.\\nLOOKING-GLASS RIVER.\\nSmooth it slides upon its travel,\\nHere a wimple, there a gleam\\nO the clean gravel\\nO the smooth stream!\\nSailing blossoms, silver fishes,\\nPaven pools as clear as air\\nHow a child wishes\\nTo live down there!\\nWe can see our coloured faces\\nFloating on the shaken pool\\nDown in cool places,\\nDim and very cool;\\nTill a wind or water wrinkle.\\nDipping martin, plumping trout,\\n48", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0082.jp2"}, "81": {"fulltext": "LOOKING-GLASS RIVER. 49\\nSpreads in a twinkle\\nAnd blots all out.\\nSee the rings pursue each other;\\nAll below grows black as night,\\nJust as if mother\\nHad blown out the light!\\nPatience, children, just a minute\\nSee the spreading circles die;\\nThe stream and all in it\\nWill clear by-and-by.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0083.jp2"}, "82": {"fulltext": "XXXVI.\\nFAIRY BREAD.\\nCome up here, O dusty feet!\\nHere is fairy bread to eat.\\nHere in my retiring room,\\nChildren, you may dine\\nOn the golden smell of broom\\nAnd the shade of pine;\\nAnd when you have eaten well,\\nFairy stories hear and tell.\\n60", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0084.jp2"}, "83": {"fulltext": "XXXVII.\\nFROM A RAILWAY CARRIAGE.\\nFaster than fairies, faster than witches,\\nBridges and houses, hedges and ditches;\\nAnd charging along like troops in a battle,\\nAll through the meadows the horses and cattle\\nAll of the sights of the hill and the plain\\nFly as thick as driving rain;\\nAnd ever again, in the wink of an eye,\\nPainted stations whistle by.\\nHere is a child who clambers and scrambles.\\nAll by himself and gathering brambles;\\nHere is a tramp who stands and gazes;\\nAnd there is the green for stringing the daisies\\nHere is a cart run away in the road\\nLumping along with man and load;\\nAnd here is a mill and there is a river:\\nEach a glimpse and gone for ever!\\n51", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0085.jp2"}, "84": {"fulltext": "XXXVIII.\\nWINTER-TIME.\\nLate lies the wintry sun a-bed,\\nA frosty, fiery sleepy-head;\\nBlinks but an hour or two; and then,\\nA blood-red orange, sets again.\\nBefore the stars have left the skies,\\nAt morning in the dark I rise;\\nAnd shivering in my nakedness.\\nBy the cold candle, bathe and dress.\\nClose by the jolly fire I sit\\nTo warm my frozen bones a bit;\\nOr, with a reindeer-sled, explore\\nThe colder countries round the door.\\nWhen to go out, my nurse doth wrap\\nMe in my comforter and cap;\\n62", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0086.jp2"}, "85": {"fulltext": "IVINTER-TIME. 53\\nThe cold wind burns my face, and blows\\nIts frosty pepper up my nose.\\nBlack are my steps on silver sod;\\nThick blows my frosty breath abroad;\\nAnd tree and house, and hill and lake,\\nAre frosted like a wedding-cake.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0087.jp2"}, "86": {"fulltext": "XXXIX.\\nTHE HAYLOFT.\\nThrough all the pleasant meadow-side\\nThe grass grew shoulder-high,\\nTill the shining scythes went far and wide\\nAnd cut it down to dry.\\nThese green and sweetly smelling crops\\nThey led in waggons home;\\nAnd they piled them here in mountain tops\\nFor mountaineers to roam.\\nHere is Mount Clear, Mount Rusty-Nail,\\nMount Eagle and Mount High;\\nThe mice that in these mountains dwell,\\nNo happier are than I\\nO what a joy to clamber there,\\nO what a place for play,\\nWith the sweet, the dim, the dusty air,\\nThe happy hills of hay!\\n64", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0088.jp2"}, "87": {"fulltext": "XL.\\nFAREWELL TO THE FARM.\\nThe coach is at the door at last;\\nThe eager children, mounting fast\\nAnd kissing hands, in chorus sing:\\nGood-bye, good-bye, to everything!\\nTo house and garden, field and lawn,\\nThe meadow-gates we swang upon,\\nTo pump and stable, tree and swing.\\nGood-bye, good-bye, to everything!\\nAnd fare you well for evermore,\\nO ladder at the hayloft door,\\nO hayloft where the cobwebs cling,\\nGood-bye, good-bye, to everything!\\nCrack goes the whip, and off we go;\\nThe trees and houses smaller grow;\\nLast, round the woody turn we swing;\\nGood-bye, good-bye, to everything!\\n55", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0089.jp2"}, "88": {"fulltext": "XLI.\\nNORTH-WEST PASSAGE.\\nI. Good Night.\\nWhen the bright lamp is carried in,\\nThe sunless hours again begin;\\nO er all without, in field and lane,.\\nThe haunted night returns again.\\nNow we behold the embers flee\\nAbout the firelit hearth; and see\\nOur faces painted as we pass,\\nLike pictures, on the window-glass.\\nMust we to bed indeed? Well then.\\nLet us arise and go like men,\\nAnd face with an undaiunted tread\\nThe long black passage up to bed.\\nFarewell, O brother, sister, sire!\\nO pleasant party round the fire!\\nThe songs you sing, the tales you tell.\\nTill far to-morrow, fare ye well!\\n56", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0090.jp2"}, "89": {"fulltext": "2. Shadow March.\\nAll round the house is the jet-black night;\\nIt stares through the window-pane;\\nIt crawls in the corners, hiding from the light,\\nAnd it moves with the moving flame.\\nNow my little heart goes a-beating like a drum,\\nWith the breath of the Bogie in my hair;\\nAnd all round the candle the crooked shadows\\ncome,\\nAnd go marching along up the stair.\\nThe shadow of the balusters, the shadow of the\\nlamp.\\nThe shadow of the child that goes to bed\\nAll the wicked shadows coming, tramp, tramp,\\ntramp,\\nWith the black night overhead.\\n67", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0091.jp2"}, "90": {"fulltext": "3- In Port.\\nLast, to the chamber where I lie\\nMy fearful footsteps patter nigh,\\nAnd come from out the cold and gloom\\nInto my warm and cheerful room.\\nThere, safe arrived, we turn about\\nTo keep the coming shadows out.\\nAnd close the happy door at last\\nOn all the perils that we past.\\nThen, when mamma goes by to bed.\\nShe shall come in with tip-toe tread,\\nAnd see me lying warm and fast\\nAnd in the Land of Nod at last.\\n58", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0092.jp2"}, "91": {"fulltext": "THE CHILD ALONE.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0093.jp2"}, "92": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0094.jp2"}, "93": {"fulltext": "I.\\nTHE UNSEEN PLAYMATE.\\nWhen children are playing alone on the green,\\nIn comes the playmate that never was seen.\\nWhen children are happy and lonely and good,\\nThe Friend of the Children comes out of the\\nwood.\\nNobody heard him and nobody saw,\\nHis is a picture you never could draw.\\nBut he s sure to be present, abroad or at\\nhome,\\nWhen children are happy and playing alone.\\nHe lies in the laurels, he runs on the grass.\\nHe sings when you tinkle the musical glass;\\nWhene er you are happy and cannot tell why.\\nThe Friend of the Children is sure to be by!\\n61", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0095.jp2"}, "94": {"fulltext": "62 THE UNSEEN PLAYMATE.\\nHe loves to be little, he hates to be big,\\nTis he that inhabits the caves that you dig;\\nT is he when you play with your soldiers of tin\\nThat sides with the Frenchmen and never can\\nTis he, when at night you go off to your bed,\\nBids you go to your sleep and not trouble your\\nhead;\\nFor wherever they re lying, in cupboard or\\nshelf,\\nTis he will take care of your playthings him-\\nself!", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0096.jp2"}, "95": {"fulltext": "II.\\nMY SHIP AND I.\\nO IT s I that am the captain of a tidy little\\nship,\\nOf a ship that goes a-sailing on the pond;\\nAnd my ship it keeps a-turning all around and\\nall about;\\nBut when I m a little older, I shall find the\\nsecret out\\nHow to send my vessel sailing on beyond.\\nFor I mean to grow as little as the dolly at\\nthe helm,\\nAnd the dolly I intend to come alive;\\nAnd with him beside to help me, it s a-sailing\\nI shall go.\\nIt s a-sailing on the water, when the jolly\\nbreezes blow\\nAnd the vessel goes a divie-divie-dive.\\n63", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0097.jp2"}, "96": {"fulltext": "64 MY SHIP AND I.\\nO it s then you ll see me sailing through the\\nrushes and the reeds,\\nAnd you ll hear the water singing at the\\nprow\\nFor beside the dolly sailor, I m to voyage and\\nexplore,\\nTo land upon the island where no dolly was\\nbefore,\\nAnd to fire the penny cannon in the bow.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0098.jp2"}, "97": {"fulltext": "III.\\nMY KINGDOM.\\nDown by a shining water well\\nI found a very little dell,\\nNo higher than my head.\\nThe heather and the gorse about\\nIn summer bloom were coming out,\\nSome yellow and some red.\\nI called the little pool a sea;\\nThe little hills were big to me;\\nFor I am very small.\\nI made a boat, I made a town,\\nI searched the caverns up and down,\\nAnd named them one and all.\\nAnd all about was mine, I said,\\nThe little sparrows overhead.\\nThe little minnows too.\\n65", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0099.jp2"}, "98": {"fulltext": "66 MY KINGDOM.\\nThis was the world and I was king;\\nFor me the bees came by to sing,\\nFor me the swallows flew.\\nI played there were no deeper seas,\\nNor any wider plains than these,\\nNor other kings than me.\\nAt last I heard my mother call\\nOut from the house at evenfall.\\nTo call me home to tea.\\nAnd I must rise and leave my dell.\\nAnd leave my dimpled water well,\\nAnd leave my heather blooms.\\nAlas! and as my home I neared.\\nHow very big my nurse appeared.\\nHow great and cool the rooms!", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0100.jp2"}, "99": {"fulltext": "IV.\\nPICTURE-BOOKS IN WINTER.\\nSummer fading, winter comes\\nFrosty mornings, tingling thumbs,\\nWindow robins, winter rooks,\\nAnd the picture story-books.\\nWater now is turned to stone\\nNurse and I can walk upon;\\nStill we find the flowing brooks\\nIn the picture story-books.\\nAll the pretty things put by,\\nWait upon the children s eye,\\nSheep and shepherds, trees and crooks,\\nIn the picture story-books.\\nWe may see how all things are\\nSeas and cities, near and far,\\n67", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0101.jp2"}, "100": {"fulltext": "68 PICTURE-BOOKS IN IVINTER.\\nAnd the flying fairies looks,\\nIn the picture story-books.\\nHow am I to sing your praise,\\nHappy chimney-corner days,\\nSitting safe in nursery nooks,\\nReading picture story-books?", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0102.jp2"}, "101": {"fulltext": "V.\\nMY TREASURES.\\nThese nuts, that I keep in the back of the\\nnest\\nWhere all my lead soldiers are lying at rest,\\nWere gathered in autumn by nursie and me\\nIn a wood with a well by the side of the sea.\\nThis whistle we made (and how clearly it\\nsounds\\nBy the side of a field at the end of the\\ngrounds.\\nOf a branch of a plane, with a knife of my\\nown,\\nIt was nursie who made it, and nursie alone\\nThe stone, with the white and the yellow and\\ngrey,\\nWe discovered I cannot tell how far away;\\n69", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0103.jp2"}, "102": {"fulltext": "70 MY TREASURES.\\nAnd I carried it back although weary and cold,\\nFor though father denies it, I m sure it is gold.\\nBut of all my treasures the last is the king,\\nFor there s very few children possess such a\\nthing;\\nAnd that is a chisel, both handle and blade.\\nWhich a man who was really a carpenter made.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0104.jp2"}, "103": {"fulltext": "VI.\\nBLOCK CITY.\\nWhat are you able to build with your blocks?\\nCastles and palaces, temples and docks.\\nRain may keep raining, and others go roam.\\nBut I can be happy and building at home.\\nLet the sofa be mountains, the carpet be sea,\\nThere I ll establish a city for me:\\nA kirk and a mill and a palace beside.\\nAnd a harbour as well where my vessels may\\nride.\\nGreat is the palace with pillar and wall,\\nA sort of a tower on the top of it all,\\nAnd steps coming down in an orderly way\\nTo where my toy vessels lie safe in the bay.\\nThis one is sailing and that one is moored:\\nHark to the song of the sailors on board\\n71", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0105.jp2"}, "104": {"fulltext": "72 BLOCK CITY,\\nAnd see on the steps of my palace, the kings\\nComing and going with presents and things!\\nNow I have done with it, down let it go\\nAll in a moment the town is laid low.\\nBlock upon block lying scattered and free,\\nWhat is there left of my town by the sea?\\nYet, as I saw it, I see it again.\\nThe kirk and the palace, the ships and the\\nmen.\\nAnd as long as I live and where er I may be,\\nI 11 always remember my town by the sea.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0106.jp2"}, "105": {"fulltext": "VII.\\nTHE LAND OF STORY-BOOKS.\\nAt evening when the lamp is lit,\\nAround the fire my parents sit;\\nThey sit at home and talk and sing,\\nAnd do not play at anything.\\nNow, with my little gun, I crawl\\nAll in the dark along the wall.\\nAnd follow round the forest track\\nAway behind the sofa back.\\nThere, in the night, where none can spy,\\nAll in my hunter s camp I lie.\\nAnd play at books that I have read\\nTill it is time to go to bed.\\nThese are the hills, these are the woods.\\nThese are my starry solitudes;\\n73", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0107.jp2"}, "106": {"fulltext": "THE LAND OF STORY-BOOKS..\\nAnd there the river by whose brink\\nThe roaring lions come to drink.\\nI see the others far away\\nAs if in firelit camp they lay,\\nAnd I, like to an Indian scout.\\nAround their party prowled about.\\nSo, when my nurse comes in for me,\\nHome I return across the sea.\\nAnd go to bed with backward looks\\nAt my dear land of Story-books.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0108.jp2"}, "107": {"fulltext": "VIII.\\nARMIES IN THE FIRE.\\nThe lamps now glitter down the street;\\nFaintly sound the falling feet;\\nAnd the blue even slowly falls\\nAbout the garden trees and walls.\\nNow in the falling of the gloom\\nThe red fire paints the empty room:\\nAnd warmly on the roof it looks,\\nAnd flickers on the backs of books.\\nArmies march by tower and spire\\nOf cities blazing, in the fire;\\nTill as I gaze with staring eyes,\\nThe armies fade, the lustre dies.\\nThen once again the glow returns;\\nAgain the phantom city burns;", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0109.jp2"}, "108": {"fulltext": "76 ARMIES IN THE FIRE.\\nAnd down the red-hot valley, lo!\\nThe phantom armies marching go!\\nBlinking embers, tell me true\\nWhere are those armies marching to,\\nAnd what the burning city is\\nThat crumbles in your furnaces!", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0110.jp2"}, "109": {"fulltext": "IX.\\nTHE LITTLE LAND.\\nWhen at home alone I sit\\nAnd am very tired of it,\\nI have just to shut my eyes\\nTo go sailing through the skies\\nTo go sailing far away\\nTo the pleasant Land of Play;\\nTo the fairy land afar\\nWhere the Little People are;\\nWhere the clover-tops are trees,\\nAnd the rain-pools are the seas.\\nAnd the leaves like little ships\\nSail about on tiny trips;\\nAnd above the daisy tree\\nThrough the grasses.\\nHigh o erhead the Bumble Bee\\nHums and passes.\\nIn that forest to and fro\\nI can wander, I can go;\\n77", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0111.jp2"}, "110": {"fulltext": "78 THE LITTLE LAND.\\nSee the spider and the fly,\\nAnd the ants go marching by\\nCarrying parcels with their feet\\nDown the green and grassy street.\\nI can in the sorrel sit\\nWhere the ladybird alit.\\nI can climb the jointed grass,\\nAnd on high\\nSee the greater swallows pass\\nIn the sky,\\nAnd the round sun rolling by\\nHeeding no such things as I.\\nThrough that forest I can pass\\nTill, as in a looking-glass,\\nHumming fly and daisy tree\\nAnd my tiny self I see.\\nPainted very clear and neat\\nOn the rain-pool at my feet.\\nShould a leaflet come to land,\\nDrifting near to where I stand.\\nStraight I 11 board that tiny boat\\nRound the rain-pool sea to float.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0112.jp2"}, "111": {"fulltext": "THE LITTLE LAND. 79\\nLittle thoughtful creatures sit\\nOn the grassy coasts of it;\\nLittle things with lovely eyes\\nSee me sailing with surprise.\\nSome are clad in armour green\\n(These have sure to battle been\\nSome are pied with ev ry hue,\\nBlack and crimson, gold and blue;\\nSome have wings and swift are gone;\\nBut they all look kindly on.\\nWhen my eyes I once again\\nOpen, and see all things plain:\\nHigh bare walls, great bare floor;\\nGreat big knobs on drawer and door;\\nGreat big people perched on chairs,\\nStitching tucks and mending tears,\\nEach a hill that I could climb.\\nAnd talking nonsense all the time\\nO dear me,\\nThat I could be\\nA sailor on the rain-pool sea,\\nA climber in the clover tree,\\nAnd just come back, a sleepy-head,\\nLate at night to go to bed.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0113.jp2"}, "112": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0114.jp2"}, "113": {"fulltext": "GARDEN DAYS.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0115.jp2"}, "114": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0116.jp2"}, "115": {"fulltext": "I.\\nNIGHT AND DAY.\\nWhen the golden day is done,\\nThrough the closing portal,\\nChild and garden, flower and sun,\\nVanish all things mortal.\\nAs the blinding shadows fall\\nAs the rays diminish,\\nUnder evening s cloak, they all\\nRoll away and vanish.\\nGarden darkened, daisy shut,\\nChild in bed, they slumber\\nGlow-worm in the highway rut,\\nMice among the lumber. n\\nIn the darkness houses shine,\\nParents move with candles;\\n83", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0117.jp2"}, "116": {"fulltext": "84 NIGHT AND DAY.\\nTill on all, the night divine\\nTurns the bedroom handles.\\nTill at last the day begins\\nIn the east a-breaking,\\nIn the hedges and the whins\\nSleeping birds a-waking.\\nIn the darkness shapes of things,\\nHouses, trees, and hedges.\\nClearer grow; and sparrow s wings\\nBeat on window ledges.\\nThese shall wake the yawning maid;\\nShe the door shall open\\nFinding dew on garden glade\\nAnd the morning broken.\\nThere my garden grows again\\nGreen and rosy painted.\\nAs at eve behind the pane\\nFrom my eyes it fainted.\\nJust as it was shut away.\\nToy-like, in the even,", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0118.jp2"}, "117": {"fulltext": "NIGHT AND DAY. 85\\nHere I see it glow with day\\nUnder glowing heaven.\\nEvery path and every plot,\\nEvery bush of roses,\\nEvery blue forget-me-not\\nWhere the dew reposes,\\nUp! they cry, the day is come\\nOn the smiling valleys:\\nWe have beat the morning drum;\\nPlaymate, join your allies!", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0119.jp2"}, "118": {"fulltext": "II.\\nNEST EGGS.\\nBirds all the sunny day\\nFlutter and quarrel\\nHere in the arbour-like\\nTent of the laurel.\\nHere in the fork\\nThe brown nest is seated;\\nFour little blue eggs\\nThe mother keeps heated.\\nWhile we stand watching her,\\nStaring like gabies,\\nSafe in each egg are the\\nBird s little babies.\\nSoon the frail eggs they shall\\nChip, and upspringing", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0120.jp2"}, "119": {"fulltext": "NEST EGGS. 87\\nMake all the April woods\\nMerry with singing.\\nYounger than we are,\\nO children, and frailer,\\nSoon in blue air they 11 be,\\nSinger and sailor.\\nWe, so much older.\\nTaller and stronger.\\nWe shall look down on the\\nBirdies no longer.\\nThey shall go flying\\nWith musical speeches\\nHigh overhead in the\\nTops of the beeches.\\nIn spite of our wisdom\\nAnd sensible talking.\\nWe on our feet must go\\nPlodding and walking.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0121.jp2"}, "120": {"fulltext": "III.\\nTHE FLOWERS.\\nAll the names I know from nurse:\\nGardener s garters, Shepherd s purse,\\nBachelor s buttons. Lady s smock.\\nAnd the Lady Hollyhock.\\nFairy places, fairy things.\\nFairy woods where the wild bee wings,\\nTiny trees for tiny dames\\nThese must all be fairy names!\\nTiny woods below whose boughs\\nShady fairies weave a house;\\nTiny tree-tops, rose or thyme.\\nWhere the braver fairies climb!\\nFair are grown-up people s trees.\\nBut the fairest woods are these;\\nWhere, if I were not so tall,\\nI should live for good and all.\\n88", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0122.jp2"}, "121": {"fulltext": "IV.\\nSUMMER SUN.\\nGreat is the sun, and wide he goes\\nThrough empty heaven without repose;\\nAnd in the blue and glowing days\\nMore thick than rain he showers his rays.\\nThough closer still the blinds we pull\\nTo keep the shady parlour cool,\\nYet he will find a chink or two\\nTo slip his golden fingers through.\\nThe dusty attic, spider-clad,\\nHe^ through the keyhole, maketh glad;\\nAnd through the broken edge of tiles.\\nInto the laddered hayloft smiles.\\nMeantime his golden face around\\nHe bares to all the garden ground,\\n89", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0123.jp2"}, "122": {"fulltext": "90 SUMMER SUN.\\nAnd sheds a warm and glittering look\\nAmong the ivy s inmost nook.\\nAbove the hills, along the blue,\\nRound the bright air, with footing true,\\nTo please the child, to paint the rose,\\nThe gardener of the World, he goes.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0124.jp2"}, "123": {"fulltext": "V.\\nTHE DUMB SOLDIER.\\nWhen the grass was closely mown,\\nWalking on the lawn alone,\\nIn the turf a hole I found\\nAnd hid a soldier underground.\\nSpring and daisies came apace;\\nGrasses hide my hiding place;\\nGrasses run like a green sea\\nO er the lawn up to my knee.\\nUnder grass alone he lies,\\nLooking up with leaden eyes,\\nScarlet coat and pointed gun.\\nTo the stars and to the sun.\\nWhen the grass is ripe like grain.\\nWhen the scythe is stoned again,\\nWhen the lawn is shaven clear,\\nThen my hole shall reappear.\\n91", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0125.jp2"}, "124": {"fulltext": "92 THE DUMB SOLDIER.\\nI shall find him, never fear,\\nI shall find my grenadier;\\nBut for all that s gone and come,\\nI shall find my soldier dumb.\\nHe has lived, a little thing,\\nIn the grassy woods of spring;\\nDone, if he could tell me true,\\nJust as I should like to do.\\nHe has seen the starry hours\\nAnd the springing of the flowers-\\nAnd the fairy things that pass\\nIn the forests of the grass.\\nIn the silence he has heard\\nTalking bee and ladybird.\\nAnd the butterfly has flown\\nO er him as he lay alone.\\nNot a word will he disclose.\\nNot a word of all he knows.\\nI must lay him on the shelf,\\nAnd make up the tale myself.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0126.jp2"}, "125": {"fulltext": "VI.\\nAUTUMN FIRES.\\nIn the other gardens\\nAnd all up the vale,\\nFrom the autumn bonfires\\nSee the smoke trail\\nPleasant summer over\\nAnd all the summer flowers,\\nThe red fire blazes,\\nThe grey smoke towers.\\nSing a song of seasons!\\nSomething bright in all!\\nFlowers in the summer,\\nFires in the fall!\\n93", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0127.jp2"}, "126": {"fulltext": "VII.\\nTHE GARDENER.\\nThe gardener does not love to talk,\\nHe makes me keep the gravel walk\\nAnd when he puts his tools away,\\nHe locks the door and takes the key.\\nAway behind the currant row\\nWhere no one else but cook may go,\\nFar in the plots, I see him dig\\nOld and serious, brown and big.\\nHe digs the flowers, green, red, and blue,\\nNor wishes to be spoken to.\\nHe digs the flowers and cuts the hay,\\nAnd never seems to want to play.\\nSilly gardener summer goes.\\nAnd winter comes with pinching toes,\\n94", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0128.jp2"}, "127": {"fulltext": "THE GARDENER. 95\\nWhen in the garden bare and brown\\nYou must lay your barrow down.\\nWell now, and while the summer stays,\\nTo profit by these garden days\\nO how much wiser you would be\\nTo play at Indian wars with me", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0129.jp2"}, "128": {"fulltext": "VIII.\\nHISTORICAL ASSOCIATIONS.\\nDear Uncle Jim, this garden ground\\nThat now you smoke your pipe around,\\nHas seen immortal actions done\\nAnd valiant battles lost and won.\\nHere we had best on tip-toe tread,\\nWhile I for safety march ahead,\\nFor this is that enchanted ground\\nWhere all who loiter slumber sound.\\nHere is the sea, here is the sand,\\nHere is simple Shepherd s Land,\\nHere are the fairy hollyhocks.\\nAnd there are Ali Baba s rocks.\\nBut yonder, see! apart and high,\\nFrozen Siberia lies; where I,\\nWith Robert Bruce and William Tell,\\nWas bound by an enchanter s spell.\\nS)6", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0130.jp2"}, "129": {"fulltext": "ENVOYS.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0131.jp2"}, "130": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0132.jp2"}, "131": {"fulltext": "I.\\nTO WILLIE AND HENRIETTA.\\nIf two may read aright\\nThese rhymes of old delight\\nAnd house and garden play,\\nYou two, my cousins, and you only, may.\\nYou in a garden green\\nWith me were king and queen,\\nWere hunter, soldier, tar,\\nAnd all the thousand things that children are.\\nNow in the elders seat\\nWe rest with quiet feet,\\nAnd from the window-bay\\nWe watch the children, our successors, play.\\nTime was, the golden head\\nIrrevocably said;\\nBut time, which none can bind,\\nWhile flowing fast away, leaves love behind.\\n99", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0133.jp2"}, "132": {"fulltext": "II.\\nTO MY MOTHER.\\nYou too, my mother, read my rhymes\\nFor love of unforgotten times.\\nAnd you may chance to hear once more\\nThe little feet along the floor.\\n100", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0134.jp2"}, "133": {"fulltext": "III.\\nTO AUNTIE.\\nChief of our aunts not only I,\\nBut all your dozen of nurselings cry\\nWhat did the other children do?\\nAnd what were childhood, wanting you\\n101", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0135.jp2"}, "134": {"fulltext": "IV.\\nTO MINNIE.\\nThe red room with the giant bed\\nWhere none but elders laid their head\\nThe little room where you and I\\nDid for awhile together lie\\nAnd, simple suitor, I your hand\\nIn decent marriage did demand;\\nThe great day nursery, best of all,\\nWith pictures pasted on the wall\\nAnd leaves upon the blind\\nA pleasant room wherein to wake\\nAnd hear the leafy garden shake\\nAnd rustle in the wind\\nAnd pleasant there to lie in bed\\nAnd see the pictures overhead\\nThe wars about Sebastopol,\\nThe grinning guns along the wall,\\nThe daring escalade,\\n102", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0136.jp2"}, "135": {"fulltext": "TO MINNIE. \\\\0[\\nThe plunging ships, the bleating sheep,\\nThe happy children ankle-deep\\nAnd laughing as they wade\\nAll these are vanished clean away.\\nAnd the old manse is changed to-day;\\nIt wears an altered face\\nAnd shields a stranger race.\\nThe river, on from mill to mill,\\nFlows past our childhood s garden still;\\nBut ah we children never more\\nShall watch it from the water-door\\nBelow the yew it still is there\\nOur phantom voices haunt the air\\nAs we were still at play,\\nAnd I can hear them call and say:\\nBow far is it to Babylon?\\nAh, far enough, my dear.\\nFar, far enough from here\\nYet you have farther gone\\nCan I get there by candlelight?\\nSo goes the old refrain.\\nI do not know perchance you might\\nBut only, children, hear it right,", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0137.jp2"}, "136": {"fulltext": "104 TO MINNIE.\\nAh, never to return again!\\nThe eternal dawn, beyond a doubt,\\nShall break on hill and plain.\\nAnd put all stars and candles out\\nEre we be young again.\\nTo you in distant India, these\\nI send across the seas.\\nNor count it far across.\\nFor which of us forgets\\nThe Indian cabinets,\\nThe bones of antelope, the wings of albatross,\\nThe pied and painted birds and beans.\\nThe junks and bangles, beads and screens,\\nThe gods and sacred bells.\\nAnd the loud-humming, twisted shells!\\nThe level of the parlour floor\\nWas honest, homely, Scottish shore;\\nBut when we climbed upon a chair.\\nBehold the gorgeous East was there!\\nBe this a fable; and behold\\nMe in the parlour as of old,\\nAnd Minnie just above me set\\nIn the quaint Indian cabinet!", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0138.jp2"}, "137": {"fulltext": "TO MINNIE. 105\\nSmiling and kind, you grace a shelf\\nToo high for me to reach myself.\\nReach down a hand, my dear, and take\\nThese rhymes for old acquaintance sake!", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0139.jp2"}, "138": {"fulltext": "V.\\nTO MY NAME-CHILD.\\nI.\\nSome day soon this rhyming volume, if you\\nlearn with proper speed,\\nLittle Louis Sanchez, will be given you to\\nread.\\nThen shall you discover, that your name was\\nprinted down\\nBy the English printers, long before, in London\\ntown.\\nIn the great and busy city where the East\\nand West are met,\\nAll the little letters did the English printer set;\\nWhile you thought of nothing, and were still\\ntoo young to play,\\nForeign people thought of you in places far\\naway.\\n106", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0140.jp2"}, "139": {"fulltext": "TO MY NAME-CHILD. 107\\nAy, and while you slept, a baby, over all the\\nEnglish lands\\nOther little children took the volume in their\\nhands\\nOther children questioned, in their homes across\\nthe seas:\\nWho was little Louis, won t you tell us, mother,\\nplease", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0141.jp2"}, "140": {"fulltext": "II.\\nNow that you have spelt your lesson, lay it\\ndown and go and play,\\nSeeking shells and seaweed on the sands of\\nMonterey,\\nWatching all the mighty whalebones, lying\\nburied by the breeze.\\nTiny sandy-pipers, and the huge Pacific seas.\\nAnd remember in your playing, as the sea-fog\\nrolls to you.\\nLong ere you could read it, how I told you\\nwhat to do;\\nAnd that while you thought of no one, nearly\\nhalf the world away\\nSome one thought of Louis on the beach of\\nMonterey\\n108", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0142.jp2"}, "141": {"fulltext": "VI.\\nTO ANY READER.\\nAs from the house your mother sees\\nYou playing round the garden trees,\\nSo you may see, if you will look\\nThrough the windows of this book,\\nAnother child, far, far away,\\nAnd in another garden, play.\\nBut do not think you can at all,\\nBy knocking on the window, call\\nThat child to hear you. He intent\\nIs all on his play-business bent.\\nHe does not hear; he will not look,\\nNor yet be lured out of this book.\\nFor, long ago, the truth to say,\\nHe has grown up and gone away.\\nAnd it is but a child of air\\nThat lingers in the garden there.\\n109", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0143.jp2"}, "142": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0144.jp2"}, "143": {"fulltext": "THE SONG OF RAHERO.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0145.jp2"}, "144": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0146.jp2"}, "145": {"fulltext": "TO OKI A OKI.\\nOri, 7ny brother in the island mode,\\nIn every tongue and meaning much my friend.\\nThis story of your country and your clan.\\nIn your loved house, your too much honoured guest,\\nI made in English. Take it, being done\\nAnd let me sign it ivith the najue you gave.\\nTeriitera.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0147.jp2"}, "146": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0148.jp2"}, "147": {"fulltext": "THE SONG OF RAHERO: A LEGEND\\nOF TAHITI.\\nI. THE SLAYING OF TAMATEA.\\nIt fell in the days of old, as the men of\\nTaiarapn tell,\\nA youth went forth to the fishing, and fortune\\nfavoured him well.\\nTamatea his name gullible, simple, and kind,\\nComely of countenance, nimble of body,\\nempty of mind,\\nHis mother ruled him and loved him beyond\\nthe wont of a wife,\\nServing the lad for eyes and living herself in\\nhis life.\\nAlone from the sea and the fishing came\\nTamatea the fair.\\nUrging his boat to the beach, and the mother\\nawaited him there,\\n115", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0149.jp2"}, "148": {"fulltext": "116 THE SONG OF RAHERO\\nLong may you live! said she. Your\\nfishing has sped to a wish.\\nAnd now let us choose for the king the fairest\\nof all your fish. lo\\nFor fear inhabits the palace and grudging\\ngrows in the land,\\nMarked is the sluggardly foot and marked the\\nniggardly hand,\\nThe hours and the miles are counted, the\\ntributes numbered and weighed,\\nAnd woe to him that comes short, and woe to\\nhim that delayed!\\nSo spoke on the beach the mother, and coun-\\nselled the wiser thing.\\nFor Rahero stirred in the country and secretly\\nmined the king.\\nNor were the signals wanting of how the\\nleaven wrought.\\nIn the cords of obedience loosed and the\\ntributes grudgingly brought.\\nAnd when last to the temple of Oro the boat\\nwith the victim sped,", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0150.jp2"}, "149": {"fulltext": "A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 117\\nAnd the priest uncovered the basket and\\nlooked on the face of the dead, 20\\nTrembling fell upon all at sight of an ominous\\nthing,\\nFor there was the aito dead, and he of the\\nhouse of the king.\\nSo spake on the beach the mother, matter\\nworthy of note.\\nAnd wattled a basket well, and chose a fish\\nfrom the boat;\\nAnd Tamatea the pliable shouldered the basket\\nand went.\\nAnd travelled, and sang as he travelled, a lad\\nthat was well content.\\nStill the way of his going was round by the\\nroaring coast.\\nWhere the ring of the reef is broke and the\\ntrades run riot the most.\\nOn his left, with smoke as of battle, the bil-\\nlows battered the land;\\nUnscalable, turreted mountains rose on the\\ninner hand. 30", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0151.jp2"}, "150": {"fulltext": "118 THE SONG OF RAHERO\\nAnd cape, and village, and river, and vale,\\nand mountain above.\\nEach had a name in the land for men to re-\\nmember and love;\\nAnd never the name of a place, but lo a\\nsong in its praise\\nAncient and unforgotten, songs of the earlier\\ndays,\\nThat the elders taught to the young, and at\\nnight, in the full of the moon.\\nGarlanded boys and maidens sang together in\\ntune.\\nTamatea the placable went with a lingering\\nfoot;\\nHe sang as loud as a bird, he whistled hoarse\\nas a flute;\\nHe broiled in the sun, he breathed in the\\ngrateful shadow of trees.\\nIn the icy stream of the rivers he waded over\\nthe knees; 40\\nAnd still in his empty mind crowded, a thou-\\nsand-fold.\\nThe deeds of the strong and the songs of the\\ncunning heroes of old.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0152.jp2"}, "151": {"fulltext": "A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 119\\nAnd now was he come to a place Taiarapu\\nhonoured the most,\\nWhere a silent valley of woods debouched on\\nthe noisy coast,\\nSpewing a level river. There was a haunt of Pai.-\\nThere, in his potent youth, when his parents\\ndrove him to die,\\nHonoura lived like a beast, lacking the lamp\\nand the fire.\\nWashed by the rains of the trade and clotting\\nhis hair in the mire;\\nAnd there, so mighty his hands, he bent the\\ntree to his foot\\nSo keen the spur of his hunger, he plucked it\\nnaked of fruit. 50\\nThere, as she pondered the clouds for the\\nshadow of coming ills,\\nAhupu, the woman of song, walked on high\\non the hills.\\nOf these was Rahero sprung, a man of a godly\\nrace;\\nAnd inherited cunning of spirit and beauty of\\nbody and face.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0153.jp2"}, "152": {"fulltext": "120 THE SONG OF RAHERO\\nOf yore in his youth, as an aito, Rahero wan-\\ndered the land,\\nDelighting maids with his tongue, smiting men\\nwith his hand.\\nFamous he was in his youth; but before the\\nmidst of his life\\nPaused, and fashioned a song of farewell to\\nglory and strife.\\nHouse of mine {it went), house upon the sea,\\nBelov d of all my fathers, more bclov d by\\nme I 60\\nVale of the strong Honoura, deep ravine of\\nPai,\\nAgain in your woody summits I hear the\\ntrade-ivind ery.\\nHouse of mine, in your walls, strong sounds\\nthe sea.\\nOf all sounds on earth, dearest sound to me.\\nI have heard the applause of men, I have\\nheard it arise and die\\nSweeter now in my house I hear the trade-\\nwind cry.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0154.jp2"}, "153": {"fulltext": "A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 121\\nThese were the words of his singing, other the\\nthought of his heart;\\nFor secret desire of glory vexed him, dwelling\\napart.\\nLazy and crafty he was, and loved to lie in\\nthe sun.\\nAnd loved the cackle of talk and the true word\\nuttered in fun; 70\\nLazy he was, his roof was ragged, his table\\nwas lean.\\nAnd the fish swam safe in his sea, and he\\ngathered the near and the green.\\nHe sat in his house and laughed, but he\\nloathed the king of the land,\\nAnd he uttered the grudging word under the\\ncovering hand.\\nTreason spread from his door; and he looked\\nfor a day to come,\\nA day of the crowding people, a day of the\\nsummoning drum.\\nWhen the vote should be taken, the king be\\ndriven forth in disgrace.\\nAnd Rahero, the laughing and lazy, sit and\\nrule in his place.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0155.jp2"}, "154": {"fulltext": "122 THE SONG OF RAHERO:\\nHere Tamatea came, and beheld the house on\\nthe brook\\nAnd Rahero was there by the way and covered\\nan oven to cook.^ 80\\nNaked he was to the loins, but the tattoo cov-\\nered the lack,\\nAnd the sun and the shadow of palms dappled\\nhis muscular back.\\nSwiftly he lifted his head at the fall of the\\ncoming feet.\\nAnd the water sprang in his mouth with a\\nsudden desire of meat;\\nFor he marked the basket carried, covered\\nfrom flies and the sun;\\nAnd Rahero buried his fire, but the meat in\\nhis house was done.\\nForth he stepped; and took, and delayed the\\nboy, by the hand;\\nAnd vaunted the joys of meat and the ancient\\nways of the land:\\nOur sires of old in Taiarapu, they that\\ncreated the race.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0156.jp2"}, "155": {"fulltext": "A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 123\\nAte ever with eager hand, nor regarded season\\nor place, 90\\nAte in the boat at the oar, on the way afoot;\\nand at night\\nArose in the midst of dreams to rummage the\\nhouse for a bite.\\nIt is good for the youth in his turn to follow\\nthe way of the sire;\\nAnd behold how fitting the time! for here do\\nI cover my fire.\\nI see the fire for the cooking but never\\nthe meat to cook,\\nSaid Tamat^a. Tut! said Rahero. Here\\nin the brook\\nAnd there in the tumbling sea, the fishes are\\nthick as flies.\\nHungry like healthy men, and like pigs for\\nsavour and size\\nCrayfish crowding the river, sea-fish thronging\\nthe sea.\\nWell it may be, says the other, and yet\\nbe nothing to me. 100\\nFain would I eat, but alas I have needful\\nmatter in hand,", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0157.jp2"}, "156": {"fulltext": "124 THE SONG OF RAHERO\\nSince I carry my tribute of fish to the jealous\\nking of the land.\\nNow at the word a light sprang in Rah^ro s\\neyes.\\nI will gain me a dinner, thought he, and\\nlend the king a surprise.\\nAnd he took the lad by the arm, as they stood\\nby the side of the track,\\nAnd smiled, and rallied, and flattered, and\\npushed him forward and back.\\nIt was You that sing like a bird, I never\\nhave heard you sing,\\nAnd The lads when I was a lad were none\\nso feared of a king.\\nAnd of what account is an hour, when the\\nheart is empty of guile?\\nBut come, and sit in the house and laugh\\nwith the women awhile; no\\nAnd I will but drop my hook, and behold\\nthe dinner made.\\nSo Tamat^a the pliable hung up his fish in the\\nshade", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0158.jp2"}, "157": {"fulltext": "A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 125\\nOn a tree by the side of the way; and Rah^ro\\ncarried him in,\\nSmiling as smiles the fowler when flutters the\\nbird to the gin,\\nAnd chose him a shining hook,^ and viewed it\\nwith sedulous eye,\\nAnd breathed and burnished it well on the\\nbrawn of his naked thigh.\\nAnd set a mat for the gull, and bade him be\\nmerry and bide.\\nLike a man concerned for his guest, and the\\nfishing, and nothing beside.\\nNow when Rah^ro was forth, he paused and\\nhearkened, and heard\\nThe gull jest in the house and the women\\nlaugh at his word; 120\\nAnd stealthily crossed to the side of the way\\nto the shady place\\nWhere the basket hung on a mango; and craft\\ntransfigured his face.\\nDeftly he opened the basket, and took of the\\nfat of the fish,", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0159.jp2"}, "158": {"fulltext": "126 THE SONG OF RAHERO\\nThe cut of kings and chieftains, enough for a\\ngoodly dish.\\nThis he wrapped in a leaf, set on the fire to\\ncook\\nAnd buried; and next the marred remains of\\nthe tribute he took.\\nAnd doubled and packed them well, and cov-\\nered the basket close\\nThere is a buffet, my king, quoth he,\\nand a nauseous dose!\\nAnd hung the basket again in the shade, in a\\ncloud of flies\\nAnd there is a sauce to your dinner, king\\nof the crafty eyes 130\\nSoon as the oven was open, the fish smelt ex-\\ncellent good.\\nIn the shade, by the house of Rah^ro, down\\nthey sat to their food.\\nAnd cleared the leaves^ in silence, or uttered\\na jest and laughed.\\nAnd raising the cocoanut bowls, buried their\\nfaces and quaffed.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0160.jp2"}, "159": {"fulltext": "A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 127\\nBut chiefly in silence they ate; and soon as\\nthe meal was done,\\nRahero feigned to remember and measured the\\nhour by the sun,\\nAnd Tamatea, quoth he, it is time to be\\njogging, my lad.\\nSo Tamatea arose, doing ever the thing he\\nwas bade,\\nAnd carelessly shouldered the basket, and\\nkindly saluted his host;\\nAnd again the way of his going was round by\\nthe roaring coast. 140\\nLong he went; and at length was aware of a\\npleasant green.\\nAnd the stems and shadows of palms, and\\nroofs of lodges between.\\nThere sate, in the door of his palace, the king\\non a kingly seat,\\nAnd aitos stood armed around, and the yot-\\ntowas sat at his feet.\\nBut fear was a worm in his heart: fear darted\\nhis eyes;", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0161.jp2"}, "160": {"fulltext": "128 THE SONG OF RAHERO\\nAnd he probed men s faces for treasons and\\npondered their speech for lies.\\nTo him came Tamatea, the basket slung in his\\nhand,\\nAnd paid him the due obeisance standing as\\nvassals stand.\\nIn silence hearkened the king, and closed the\\neyes in his face,\\nHarbouring odious thoughts and the baseless\\nfears of the base; 150\\nIn silence accepted the gift and sent the giver\\naway.\\nSo Tamatea departed, turning his back on the\\nday.\\nAnd lo as the king sat brooding, a rumour\\nrose in the crowd;\\nThe yottowas nudged and whispered, the com-\\nmons murmured aloud;\\nTittering fell upon all at sight of the impudent\\nthing.\\nAt the sight of a gift unroyal flung in the face\\nof a king.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0162.jp2"}, "161": {"fulltext": "A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 129\\nAnd the face of the king turned white and rtd\\nwith anger and shame\\nIn their midst; and the heart in his body was\\nwater and then was flame;\\nTill of a sudden, turning, he gripped an aito\\nhard,\\nA youth that stood with his 6mare,^ one of the\\ndaily guard, i6o\\nAnd spat in his ear a command, and pointed\\nand uttered a name,\\nAnd hid in the shade of the house his impo-\\ntent anger and shame.\\nNow Tamatea the fool was far on the home-\\nward way,\\nThe rising night in his face, behind him the\\ndying day.\\nRah^ro saw him go by, and the heart of\\nRah^ro was glad.\\nDevising shame to the king and nowise harm\\nto the lad;\\nAnd all that dwelt by the way saw and saluted\\nhim well,", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0163.jp2"}, "162": {"fulltext": "130 THE SONG OF R^HERO:\\nFor he had the face of a friend and the news\\nof the town to tell;\\nAnd pleased with the notice of folk, and\\npleased that his journey was done,\\nTamatea drew homeward, turning his back to\\nthe sun. 170\\nAnd now was the hour of the bath in Tai-\\narapu far and near\\nThe lovely laughter of bathers rose and de-\\nlighted his ear.\\nNight massed in the valleys; the sun on the\\nmountain coast\\nStruck, end-long; and above the clouds em-\\nbattled their host.\\nAnd glowed and gloomed on the heights; and\\nthe heads of the palms were gems,\\nAnd far to the rising eVe extended the shade\\nof their stems;\\nAnd the shadow of Tamatea hovered already\\nat home.\\nAnd sudden the sound of one coming and\\nrunning light as the foam", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0164.jp2"}, "163": {"fulltext": "A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 131\\nStruck on his ear; and he turned, and lo! a\\nman on his track,\\nGirded and armed with an 6mare, following\\nhard at his back. i8o\\nAt a bound the man was upon him and, or\\never a word was said.\\nThe loaded end of the omare fell and laid him\\ndead.\\nII. THE VENGING OF TAMATEA.\\nThus was Rahero s treason; thus and no further\\nit sped.\\nThe king sat safe in his place and a kindly\\nfool was dead.\\nBut the mother of Tamatea arose with death\\nin her eyes.\\nAll night long, and the next, Taiarapu rang\\nwith her cries.\\nAs when a babe in the wood turns with a chill\\nof doubt\\nAnd perceives nor home, nor friends, for the\\ntrees have closed her about,", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0165.jp2"}, "164": {"fulltext": "132 THE SONG OF RAHERO\\nThe mountain rings and her breast is torn with\\nthe voice of despair:\\nSo the lion-like woman idly wearied the air\\nFor awhile, and pierced men s hearing in vain,\\nand wounded their hearts. 191\\nBut as when the weather changes at sea, in\\ndangerous parts.\\nAnd sudden the hurricane wrack unrolls up the\\nfront of the sky.\\nAt once the ship lies idle, the sails hang silent\\non high,\\nThe breath of the wind that blew is blown out\\nlike the flame of a lamp,\\nAnd the silent armies of death draw near with\\ninaudible tramp\\nSo sudden, the voice of her weeping ceased;\\nin silence she rose\\nAnd passed from the house of her sorrow, a\\nwoman clothed with repose,\\nCarrying death in her breast and sharpening\\ndeath with her hand.\\nHither she went and thither in all the coasts\\nof the land. 200", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0166.jp2"}, "165": {"fulltext": ".4 LEGEND OF TAHITI. 133\\nThey tell that she feared not to slumber alone,\\nin the dead of night,\\nIn accursed places; beheld, unblenched, the\\nribbon of light\\nSpin from temple to temple; guided the peril-\\nous skiff,\\nAbhorred not the paths of the mountain and\\ntrod the verge of the cliff;\\nFrom end to end of the island, thought not\\nthe distance long,\\nBut forth from king to king carried the tale\\nof her wrong.\\nTo king after king, as they sat in the palace\\ndoor, she came.\\nClaiming kinship, declaiming verses, naming\\nher name\\nAnd the names of all of her fathers; and still,\\nwith a heart on the rack.\\nJested to capture a hearing and laughed when\\nthey jested back: 210\\nSo would deceive them awhile, and change and\\nreturn in a breath.\\nAnd on all the men of Vaiau imprecate instant\\ndeath;", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0167.jp2"}, "166": {"fulltext": "134 THE SONG OF RAHERO:\\nAnd tempt her kings for Vaiau was a rich\\nand prosperous land,\\nAnd flatter for who would attempt it but\\nwarriors mighty of hand?\\nAnd change in a breath again and rise in a\\nstrain of song,\\nInvoking the beaten drums, beholding the fall\\nof the strong.\\nCalling the fowls of the air to come and feast\\non the dead.\\nAnd they held the chin in silence, and heard\\nher, and shook the head;\\nFor they knew the men of Taiarapu famous in\\nbattle and feast,\\nMarvellous eaters and smiters: the men of\\nVaiau not least. 220\\nTo the land of the Namunu-ura,^^ to Paea, at\\nlength she came,\\nTo men who were foes to the Tevas and hated\\ntheir race and name.\\nThere was she well received, and spoke with\\nHiopa the king.^^", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0168.jp2"}, "167": {"fulltext": "A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 135\\nAnd Hiopa listened, and weighed, and wisely\\nconsidered the thing.\\nHere in the back of the isle we dwell in a\\nsheltered place,\\nQuoth he to the woman, in quiet, a weak\\nand peaceable race.\\nBut far in the teeth of the wind lofty Taiarapu\\nlies;\\nStrong blows the wind of the trade on its sea-\\nward face, and cries\\nAloud in the top of arduous mountains, and\\nutters its song\\nIn green continuous forests. Strong is the\\nwind, and strong 230\\nAnd fruitful and hardy the race, famous in\\nbattle and feast.\\nMarvellous eaters and smiters: the men of\\nVaiau not least.\\nNow hearken to me, my daughter, and hear a\\nword of the wise\\nHow a strength goes linked with a weakness,\\ntwo by two, like the eyes.\\nThey can wield the 6mare well and cast the\\njavelin far;", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0169.jp2"}, "168": {"fulltext": "136 THE SONG OF RAHERO\\nYet are the}^ greedy and weak as the swine and\\nthe children are.\\nPlant we, then, here at Paea, a garden of ex-\\ncellent fruits;\\nPlant we bananas and kava, and taro, the king\\nof roots;\\nLet the pigs in Paea be tapu and no man\\nfish for a year;\\nAnd of all the meat in Tahiti gather we three-\\nfold here. 240\\nSo shall the fame of our plenty fill the island,\\nand so,\\nAt last, on the tongue of rumour, go where\\nwe wish it to go.\\nThen shall the pigs of Taiarapu raise their\\nsnouts in the air;\\nBut we sit quiet and wait, as the fowler sits\\nby the snare.\\nAnd tranquilly fold our hands, till the pigs\\ncome nosing the food:\\nBut meanwhile build us a house of Trot^a, the\\nstubborn wood.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0170.jp2"}, "169": {"fulltext": "A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 137\\nBind it with incombustible thongs, set a roof\\nto the room,\\nToo strong for the hands of a man to dissever\\nor fire to consume;\\nAnd there, when the pigs come trotting, there\\nshall the feast be spread.\\nThere shall the eye of the morn enlighten the\\nfeasters dead. 250\\nSo be it done; for I have a heart that pities\\nyour state.\\nAnd Nateva and Namunu-iira are fire and water\\nfor hate.\\nAll was done as he said, and the gardens\\nprospered; and now\\nThe fame of their plenty went out, and word\\nof it came to Vaiau.\\nFor the men of Namunu-iira sailed, to the\\nwindward far.\\nLay in the offing by south where the towns of\\nthe Tevas are,\\nAnd cast overboard of their plenty; and lo at\\nthe Tevas feet", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0171.jp2"}, "170": {"fulltext": "138 THE SONG OF RAHERO\\nThe surf on all of the beaches tumbled treas-\\nures of meat.\\nIn the salt of the sea, a harvest tossed with\\nthe refluent foam;\\nAnd the children gleaned it in playing, and\\nate and carried it home; 260\\nAnd the elders stared and debated, and won-\\ndered and passed the jest,\\nBut whenever a guest came by eagerly ques-\\ntioned the guest;\\nAnd little by little, from one to another, the\\nword went round\\nIn all the borders of Paea the victual rots\\non the ground,\\nAnd swine are plenty as rats. And now, when\\nthey fare to the sea.\\nThe men of the Namunu-ura glean from under\\nthe tree\\nAnd load the canoe to the gunwale with all\\nthat is toothsome to eat;\\nAnd all day long on the sea the jaws are crush-\\ning the meat,\\nThe steersman eats at the helm, the rowers\\nmunch at the oar,", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0172.jp2"}, "171": {"fulltext": "A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 139\\nAnd at length, when their bellies are full,\\noverboard with the store 270\\nNow was the word made true, and soon as the\\nbait was bare,\\nAll the pigs of Taiarapu raised their snouts in\\nthe air.\\nSongs were recited, and kinship was counted,\\nand tales were told\\nHow war had severed of late but peace had\\ncemented of old\\nThe clans of the island. To war, said they,\\nnow set we an end.\\nAnd hie to the Namunu-ura even as a friend\\nto a friend.\\nSo judged, and a day was named; and soon\\nas the morning broke,\\nCanoes were thrust in the sea and the houses\\nemptied of folk.\\nStrong blew the wind of the south, the wind\\nthat gathers the clan;\\nAlong all the line of the reef the clamorous\\nsurges ran; 2S0", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0173.jp2"}, "172": {"fulltext": "140 THE SONG OF RAHERO\\nAnd the clouds were piled on the top of the\\nisland mountain-high,\\nA mountain throned on a mountain. The fleet\\nof canoes swept by\\nIn the midst, on the green lagoon, with a\\ncrew released from care,\\nSailing an even water, breathing a summer\\nair.\\nCheered by a cloudless sun; and ever to left\\nand right,\\nBursting surge on the reef, drenching storms\\non the height.\\nSo the folk of Vaiau sailed and were glad all\\nday,\\nCoasting the palm-tree cape and crossing the\\npopulous bay\\nBy all the towns of the Tevas; and still as\\nthey bowled along.\\nBoat would answer to boat with jest and\\nlaughter and song, 290\\nAnd the people of all the towns trooped to\\nthe sides of the sea\\nAnd gazed from under the hand or sprang aloft\\non. the tree,", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0174.jp2"}, "173": {"fulltext": "A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 141\\nHailing and cheering. Time failed them for\\nmore to do;\\nThe holiday village careened to the wind, and\\nwas gone from view\\nSwift as a passing bird; and ever as onward it\\nbore,\\nLike the cry of the passing bird, bequeathed\\nits song to the shore\\nDesirable laughter of maids and the cry of\\ndelight of the child.\\nAnd the gazer, left behind, stared at the wake\\nand smiled.\\nBy all the towns of the Tevas they went, and\\nPapara last.\\nThe home of the chief, the place of muster in\\nwar; and passed 300\\nThe march of the lands of the clan, to the\\nlands of an alien folk.\\nAnd there, from the dusk of the shoreside\\npalms, a column of smoke\\nMounted and wavered and died in the gold of\\nthe setting sun,", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0175.jp2"}, "174": {"fulltext": "142 THE SONG OF ROMERO:\\nPaea! they cried. It is Paea. And so\\nwas the voyage done.\\nIn the early fall of the night, Hiopa came to\\nthe shore,\\nAnd beheld and counted the comers, and lo,\\nthey were forty score\\nThe pelting feet of the babes that ran already\\nand played,\\nThe clean-lipped smile of the boy, the slender\\nbreasts of the maid.\\nAnd mighty limbs of women, stalwart mothers\\nof men.\\nThe sires stood forth unabashed; but a little\\nback from his ken 310\\nClustered the scarcely nubile, the lads and\\nmaids, in a ring,\\nFain of each other, afraid of themselves, aware\\nof the king\\nAnd aping behaviour, but clinging together\\nwith hands and eyes,\\nWith looks that were kind like kisses, and\\nlaughter tender as sighs.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0176.jp2"}, "175": {"fulltext": "A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 143\\nThere, too, the grandsire stood, raising his\\nsilver crest.\\nAnd the impotent hands of a suckling groped\\nin his barren breast.\\nThe childhood of love, the pair well married,\\nthe innocent brood.\\nThe tale of the generations repeated and ever\\nrenewed\\nHiopa beheld them together, all the ages of\\nman, 319\\nAnd a moment shook in his purpose.\\nBut these were the foes of his clan.\\nAnd he trod upon pity, and came, and civilly\\ngreeted the king,\\nAnd gravely entreated Rahero; and for all that\\ncould fight or sing.\\nAnd claimed a name in the land, had fitting\\nphrases of praise;\\nBut with all who were well-descended he spoke\\nof the ancient days.\\nAnd Tis true, said he, that in Paea the\\nvictual rots on the ground;", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0177.jp2"}, "176": {"fulltext": "144 THE SONG OF R/IHERO\\nBut, friends, your number is many; and pigs\\nmust be hunted and found,\\nAnd the lads troop to the mountains to bring\\nthe feis down.\\nAnd around the bowls of the kava cluster the\\nmaids of the town.\\nSo, for to-night, sleep here; but king, common,\\nand priest 330\\nTo-morrow, in order due, shall sit with me in\\nthe feast.\\nSleepless the live-long night, Hiopa s followers\\ntoiled.\\nThe pigs screamed and were slaughtered; the\\nspars of the guest-house oiled.\\nThe leaves spread on the floor. In many a\\nmountain glen\\nThe moon drew shadows of trees on the naked\\nbodies of men\\nPlucking and bearing fruits; and in all the\\nbounds of the town\\nRed glowed the cocoanut fires, and were buried\\nand trodden down.\\nThus did seven of the yottovvas toil with their\\ntale of the clan,", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0178.jp2"}, "177": {"fulltext": "A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 145\\nBut the eighth wrought with his lads, hid from\\nthe sight of man.\\nIn the deeps of the woods they laboured, piling\\nthe fuel high 340\\nIn faggots, the load of a man, fuel seasoned and\\ndry.\\nThirsty to seize upon fire and apt to blurt into\\nflame.\\nAnd now was the day of the feast. The for-\\nests, as morning came.\\nTossed in the wind, and the peaks quaked in\\nthe blaze of the day\\nAnd the cocoanuts showered on the ground,\\nrebounding and rolling away\\nA glorious morn for a feast, a famous wind for\\na fire.\\nTo the hall of feasting Hiopa led them,\\nmother and sire\\nAnd maid and babe in a tale, the whole of\\nthe holiday throng.\\nSmiling they came, garlanded green, not\\ndreaming of wrong;", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0179.jp2"}, "178": {"fulltext": "146 THE SONG OF RAHERO\\nAnd for every three, a pig, tenderly cooked in\\nthe ground, 350\\nWaited; and fei, the staff of life, heaped in\\na mound\\nFor each where he sat; for each, bananas\\nroasted and raw\\nPiled with a bountiful hand, as for horses hay\\nand straw\\nAre stacked in a stable; and fish, the food of\\ndesire,\\nAnd plentiful vessels of sauce, and breadfruit\\ngilt in the fire;\\nAnd kava was common as water. Feasts have\\nthere been ere now.\\nAnd many, but never a feast like that of the\\nfolk of Vaiau.\\nAll day long they ate with the resolute greed\\nof brutes.\\nAnd turned from the pigs to the fish, and\\nagain from the fish to the fruits.\\nAnd emptied the vessels of sauce, and drank\\nof the kava deep; 360", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0180.jp2"}, "179": {"fulltext": "A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 147\\nTill the young lay stui)id as stones, and the\\nstrongest nodded to sleep.\\nSleep that was mighty as death and blind as a\\nmoonless night\\nTethered them hand and foot; and their souls\\nwere drowned, and the light\\nWas cloaked from their eyes. Senseless to-\\ngether, the old and the young,\\nThe fighter deadly to smite and the prater\\ncunning of tongue,\\nThe woman wedded and fruitful, inured to the\\npangs of birth,\\nAnd the maid that knew not of kisses, blindly\\nsprawled on the earth.\\nFrom the hall Hiopa the king and his chiefs\\ncame stealthily forth.\\nAlready the sun hung low and enlightened the\\npeaks of the north;\\nBut the wind was stubborn to die and blew as\\nit blows at morn, 370\\nShowering the nuts in the dusk, and e en as a\\nbanner is torn,", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0181.jp2"}, "180": {"fulltext": "148 THE SONG OF RAHERO\\nHigh on the peaks of the island, shattered the\\nmountain cloud.\\nAnd now at once, at a signal, a silent, emu-\\nlous crowd\\nSet hands to the work of death, hurrying to\\nand fro.\\nLike ants, to furnish the faggots, building them\\nbroad and low,\\nAnd piling them high and higher around the\\nwalls of the hall.\\nSilence persisted within, for sleep lay heavy on\\nall.\\nBut the mother of Tamatea stood at Hiopa s\\nside.\\nAnd shook for terror and joy like a girl that\\nis a bride.\\nNight fell on the toilers, and first Hiopa the\\nwise 3S0\\nMade the round of the house, visiting all with\\nhis eyes;\\nAnd all was piled to the eaves, and fuel\\nblockaded the door;\\nAnd within, in the house beleaguered, slumbered\\nthe forty score.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0182.jp2"}, "181": {"fulltext": "A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 149\\nThen was an aito despatched and came with\\nfire in his hand,\\nAnd Hiopa took it. Within, said he, is\\nthe life of a hind;\\nAnd behold I breathe on the coal, I breathe\\non the dales of the east,\\nAnd silence falls on forest and shore; the voice\\nof the feast\\nIs quenched, and the smoke of cooking; the\\nrooftree decays and falls\\nOn the empty lodge, and the winds subvert\\ndeserted walls.\\nTherewithal, to the fuel, he laid the glowing\\ncoal; 390\\nAnd the redness ran in the mass and burrowed\\nwithin like a mole,\\nAnd copious smoke was conceived. But, as\\nwhen a dam is to burst.\\nThe water lips it and crosses in silver trickles\\nat first,\\nAnd then, of a sudden, whelms and bears it\\naway forthright:", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0183.jp2"}, "182": {"fulltext": "150 THE SONQ OF ROMERO:\\nSo now, in a moment, the flame sprang and\\ntowered in the night,\\nAnd wrestled and roared in the wind, and high\\nover house and tree.\\nStood, like a streaming torch, enlightening land\\nand sea.\\nBut the mother of Tamatea threw her arms\\nabroad,\\nPyre of my son, she shouted, debited ven-\\ngeance of God,\\nLate, late, I behold you, yet I behold you at\\nlast, 400\\nAnd glory, beholding! For now are the days\\nof my agony past.\\nThe lust that famished my soul now eats and\\ndrinks its desire.\\nAnd they that encompassed my son shrivel\\nalive in the fire.\\nTenfold precious the vengeance that comes\\nafter lingering years\\nYe quenched the voice of my singer? hark,\\nin your dying ears.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0184.jp2"}, "183": {"fulltext": "A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 151\\nThe song of the conflagration! Ye left me a\\nwidow alone?\\nBehold, the whole of your race consumes,\\nsinew and bone\\nAnd torturing flesh together: man, mother, and\\nmaid\\nHeaped in a common shambles; and already,\\nborne by the trade.\\nThe smoke of your dissolution darkens the stars\\nof night. 410\\nThus she spoke, and her stature grew in the\\npeople s sight.\\nIII. RAHERO.\\nRahero was there in the hall asleep: beside\\nhim his wife.\\nComely, a mirthful woman, one that delighted\\nin life;\\nAnd a girl that was ripe for marriage, shy and\\nsly as a mouse;\\nAnd a boy, a climber of trees: all the hopes\\nof his house.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0185.jp2"}, "184": {"fulltext": "152 THE SONG OF RAHEKO\\nUnwary, with open hands, he slept in the\\nmidst of his folk.\\nAnd dreamed that he heard a voice crying\\nwithout, and awoke,\\nLeaping blindly afoot like one from a dream\\nthat he fears.\\nA hellish glow and clouds were about him;\\nit roared in his ears\\nLike the sound of the cataract fall that plunges\\nsudden and steep; 420\\nAnd Rahero swayed as he stood, and his reason\\nwas still asleep.\\nNow the flame struck hard on the house, wind-\\nwielded, a fracturing blow.\\nAnd the end of the roof was burst and fell on\\nthe sleepers below;\\nAnd the lofty hall, and the feast, and the pros-\\ntrate bodies of folk,\\nShone red in his eyes a moment, and then\\nwere swallowed of smoke.\\nIn the mind of Rahero clearness came; and he\\nopened his throat;\\nAnd as when a squall comes sudden, the strain-\\ning sail of a boat", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0186.jp2"}, "185": {"fulltext": "A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 15o\\nThunders aloud and bursts, so thundered the\\nvoice of the man.\\nThe wind and the rain! he shouted, the\\nmustering word of the clan,^\\nAnd Up! and To arms, men of Vaiau!\\nBut silence replied, 430\\nOr only the voice of the gusts of the fire, and\\nnothing beside.\\nRahero stooped and groped. He handled his\\nwomankind,\\nBut the fumes of the fire and the kava had\\nquenched the life of their mind,\\nAnd they lay like pillars prone; and his hand\\nencountered the boy,\\nAnd there sprang in the gloom of his soul a\\nsudden lightning of joy.\\nHim can I save! he thought, if I were\\nspeedy enough.\\nAnd he loosened the cloth from his loins, and\\nswaddled the child in the stuff;\\nAnd about the strength of his neck he knotted\\nthe burden well.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0187.jp2"}, "186": {"fulltext": "154 THE SONG OF RAHERO\\nThere where the roof had fallen, it roared like\\nthe mouth of hell.\\nThither Rahero went, stumbling on senseless\\nfolk, 440\\nAnd grappled a post of the house, and began\\nto climb in the smoke\\nThe last alive of Vaiau and the son borne by\\nthe sire.\\nThe post glowed in the grain with ulcers of\\neating fire,\\nAnd the fire bit to the blood and mangled his\\nhands and thighs;\\nAnd the fumes sang in his head like wine and\\nstung in his eyes;\\nAnd still he climbed, and came to the top,\\nthe place of proof,\\nAnd thrust a hand through the flame, and\\nclambered alive on the roof.\\nBut even as he did so, the wind, in a garment\\nof flames and pain.\\nWrapped him from head to heel; and the waist-\\ncloth parted in twain;\\nAnd the living fruit of his loins dropped in\\nthe fire below. 450", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0188.jp2"}, "187": {"fulltext": "A LEGEND OF T AH 111. 155\\nAbout the blazing feast-house clustered the\\neyes of the foe,\\nWatching, hand upon weapon, lest ever a soul\\nshould flee.\\nShading the brow from the glare, straining the\\nneck to see.\\nOnly, to leeward, the flames in the wind swept\\nfar and wide,\\nAnd the forest sputtered on fire: and there\\nmight no man abide.\\nThither Rahero crept, and dropped from the\\nburning eaves.\\nAnd crouching low to the ground, in a treble\\ncovert of leaves\\nAnd fire and volleying smoke, ran for the life\\nof his soul\\nUnseen; and behind him, under a furnace of\\nardent coal,\\nCairned with a wonder of flame, and blotting\\nthe night with smoke, 460\\nBlazed and were smelted together the bones of\\nall his folk.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0189.jp2"}, "188": {"fulltext": "156 THE SONG OF RAHERO\\nHe fled unguided at first; but hearing the\\nbreakers roar,\\nThitherward shaped his way, and came at length\\nto the shore.\\nSound-limbed he was: dry-eyed; but smarted\\nin every part;\\nAnd the mighty cage of his ribs heaved on\\nhis straining heart\\nWith sorrow and rage.. And Fools! he\\ncried, fools of Vaiau,\\nHeads of swine gluttons Alas! and where\\nare they now?\\nThose that I played with, those that nursed\\nme, those that I nursed?\\nGod, and I outliving them! I, the least and\\nthe worst\\nI, that thought myself crafty, snared by this\\nherd of swine, 470\\nIn the tortures of hell and desolate, stripped\\nof all that was mine:\\nAll! my friends and my fathers the silver\\nheads of yore\\nThat trooped to the council, the children that\\nran to the open door", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0190.jp2"}, "189": {"fulltext": "A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 157\\nCrying with innocent voices and clasping a\\nfather s knees!\\nAnd mine, my wife my daughter my sturdy\\nclimber of trees,\\nAh, never to climb again\\nThus in the dusk of the night,\\n(For clouds rolled in the sky and the moon\\nwas swallowed from sight,)\\nPacing and gnawing his fists, Rahero raged by\\nthe shore.\\nVengeance: that must be his. But much was\\nto do before; 4S0\\nAnd first a single life to be snatched from a\\ndeadly place,\\nA life, the root of revenge, surviving plant of\\nthe race\\nAnd next the race to be raised anew, and the\\nlands of the clan\\nRepeopled. So Rahero designed, a prudent man\\nEven in wrath, and turned for the means of\\nrevenge and escape\\nA boat to be seized by stealth, a wife to be\\ntaken by rape.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0191.jp2"}, "190": {"fulltext": "158 THE SONG OF RAHEKO\\nStill was the dark lagoon; beyond on the coral\\nwall,\\nHe saw the breakers shine, he heard them\\nbellow and .fall.\\nAlone, on the top of the reef, a man with a\\nflaming brand\\nWalked, gazing and pausing, a fish-spear\\npoised in his hand. 490\\nThe foam boiled to his calf when the mightier\\nbreakers came.\\nAnd the torch shed in the wind scattering tufts\\nof flame.\\nAfar on the dark lagoon a canoe lay idly at\\nwait\\nA figure dimly guiding it: surely the fisher-\\nman s mate.\\nRahero saw and he smiled. He straightened\\nhis mighty thews:\\nNaked, with never a weapon, and covered\\nwith scorch and bruise.\\nHe straightened his arms, he filled the void of\\nhis body with breath,\\nAnd, strong as the wind in his manhood,\\ndoomed the fisher to death.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0192.jp2"}, "191": {"fulltext": "A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 159\\nSilent he entered the water, and silently swam,\\nand came\\nThere where the fisher walked, holding on high\\nthe flame. 500\\nLoud on the pier of the reef volleyed the\\nbreach of the sea;\\nAnd hard at the back of the man, Rahero\\ncrept to his knee\\nOn the coral, and suddenly sprang and seized\\nhim, the elder hand\\nClutching the joint of his throat, the other\\nsnatching the brand\\nEre it had time to fall, and holding it steady\\nand high.\\nStrong was the fisher, brave, and swift of mind\\nand of eye\\nStrongly he threw in the clutch; but Rahero\\nresisted the strain.\\nAnd jerked, and the spine of life snapped\\nwith a crack in twain.\\nAnd the man came slack in his hands and\\ntumbled a lump at his feet.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0193.jp2"}, "192": {"fulltext": "160 THE SONG OF RAHERO\\nOne moment: and there, on the reef, where\\nthe breakers whitened and beat, 510\\nRahero was standing alone, glowing and\\nscorched and bare,\\nA victor unknown of any, raising the torch in\\nthe air.\\nBut once he drank of his breath, and instantly\\nset him to fish\\nLike a man intent upon supper at home and\\na savoury dish.\\nFor what should the woman have seen? A\\nman with a torch and then\\nA moment s blur of the eyes and a man with\\na torch again.\\nAnd the torch had scarcely been shaken. Ah,\\nsurely, Rahero said,\\nShe will deem it a trick of the eyes, a fancy\\nborn in the head;\\nBut time must be given the fool to nourish a\\nfool s belief.\\nSo for a while, a sedulous fisher, he walked the\\nreef, 520\\nPausing at times and gazing, striking at times\\nwith the spear:", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0194.jp2"}, "193": {"fulltext": "A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 161\\nI astly, uttered the call; and even as the\\nboat drew near,\\nLike a man that was done with its use, tossed\\nthe torch in the sea.\\nLightly he leaped on the boat beside the\\nwoman; and she\\nLightly addressed him, and yielded the paddle\\nand place to sit;\\nFor now the torch was extinguished the night\\nwas black as the pit.\\nRahero set him to row, never a word he spoke,\\nAnd the boat sang in the water urged by his\\nvigorous stroke.\\nWhat ails you? the woman asked, and\\nwhy did you drop the brand?\\nWe have only to kindle another as soon as we\\ncome to land. 530\\nNever a word Rahero replied, but urged the\\ncanoe.\\nAnd a chill fell on the woman. Atta speak\\nis it you?\\nSpeak! AVhy are you silent? Why do you\\nbend aside?", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0195.jp2"}, "194": {"fulltext": "162 THE SONG OF ROMERO:\\nWherefore steer to the seaward? thus she\\npanted and cried.\\nNever a word from the oarsman, toiling there\\nin the dark;\\nBut right for a gate of the reef he silently\\nheaded the bark,\\nAnd wielding the single paddle with passionate\\nsweep on sweep,\\nDrove her, the little fitted, forth on the open\\ndeep.\\nAnd fear, there where she sat, froze the woman\\nto stone\\nNot fear of the crazy boat and the weltering\\ndeep alone; 540\\nBut a keener fear of the night, the dark, and\\nthe ghostly hour,\\nAnd the thing that drove the canoe with more\\nthan a mortal s power\\nAnd more than a mortal s boldness. For much\\nshe knew of the dead\\nThat haunt and fish upon reefs, toiling, like\\nmen, for bread,", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0196.jp2"}, "195": {"fulltext": "A LEGEND OF TAHITI, 163\\nAnd traffic with human fishes, or slay them and\\ntake their ware,\\nTill the hour when the star of the dead goes\\ndown, and the morning air\\nBlows, and the cocks are singing on shore.\\nAnd surely she knew\\nThe speechless thing at her side belonged to\\nthe grave.\\nIt blew\\nAll night from the south; all night, Rahero\\ncontended and kept\\nThe prow to the cresting sea; and, silent as\\nthough she slept, 550\\nThe woman huddled and quaked. And now\\nwas the peep of day.\\nHigh and long on their left the mountainous\\nisland lay;\\nAnd over the peaks of Taiarapu arrows of sun-\\nlight struck.\\nOn shore the birds were beginning to sing:\\nthe ghostly ruck\\nOf the buried had long ago returned to the\\ncovered grave;", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0197.jp2"}, "196": {"fulltext": "164 THE SONG OF RAHERO\\nAnd here on the sea, the woman, waxing sud-\\ndenly brave.\\nTurned her swiftly about and looked in the\\nface of the man.\\nAnd sure he was none that she knew, none of\\nher country or clan\\nA stranger, mother-naked, and marred with\\nthe marks of fire.\\nBut comely and great of stature, a man to\\nobey and admire. 560\\nAnd Rahero regarded her also, fixed, with a\\nfrowning face,\\nJudging the woman s fitness to mother a war-\\nlike race.\\nBroad of shoulder, ample of girdle, long in\\nthe thigh.\\nDeep of bosom she was, and bravely supported\\nhis eye.\\nWoman, said he, last night the men of\\nyour folk\\nMan, woman, and maid, smothered my race\\nin smoke.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0198.jp2"}, "197": {"fulltext": "A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 165\\nIt was done like cowards; and I, a mighty man\\nof my hands,\\nEscaped, a single life; and now to the empty\\nlands\\nAnd smokeless hearths of my people, sail, with\\nyourself, alone.\\nBefore your mother was born, the die of to-\\nday was thrown 570\\nAnd you selected your husband, vainly\\nstriving, to fall\\nBroken between these hands yourself to be\\nsevered from all.\\nThe places, the people, you love home, kin-\\ndred, and clan\\nAnd to dwell in a desert and bear the babes\\nof a kinless man.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0199.jp2"}, "198": {"fulltext": "NOTES TO THE SONG OF RAHERO.\\nIntroduction. This tale, of which I have not con-\\nsciously changed a single feature, I received from tradition.\\nIt is highly popular through all the country of the eight\\nTevas, the clan to which Rahero belonged; and particu-\\nlarly in Taiarapu, the windward peninsula of Tahiti, where\\nhe lived. I have heard from end to end two versions;\\nand as many as five different persons have helped me with\\ndetails. There seems no reason why the tale should not\\nbe true.\\nNote I, verse 22. The aifo quasi champion, or\\nbrave. One skilled in the use of some weapon, who wan-\\ndered the country challenging distinguished rivals and\\ntaking part in local quarrels. It was in the natural course\\nof his advancement to be at last, employed by a chief, or\\nking; and it would then be a part of his duties to purvey\\nthe victim for sacrifice. One of the doomed famiUes was\\nindicated; the aito took his weapon and went forth alone;\\na little behind him bearers followed with the sacrificial\\nbasket. Sometimes the victim showed fight, sometimes\\nprevailed; more often, without doubt, he fell. But what-\\never body was found, the bearers indifferently took up.\\nNote 2, verses 45 ef. seq. Pai^ Honour a, and\\nAJuipuP Legendary persons of Tahiti, all natives of\\nTaiarapu. Of the two first, I have collected singular\\nalthough imperfect legends, which I hope soon to lay\\nbefore the public in another place. Of Ahupu, except in\\n166", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0200.jp2"}, "199": {"fulltext": "NOTES TO THE SONG OF RAHERO. 167\\nsnatches of song, little memory appears to linger. She\\ndwelt at least about Tepari, the sea-clififs, the east-\\nern fastness of the isle; walked by paths known only to\\nherself upon the mountains; was courted by dangerous\\nsuitors who came swimming from adjacent islands, and\\ndefended and rescued (as I gather) by the loyalty of\\nnative fish. My anxiety to learn more of Ahupu Vehine\\nbecame (during my stay in Taiarapu) a cause of some\\ndiversion to that mirthful people, the inhabitants.\\nNote 3, verse 80. Covered an oven. The cooking\\nfire is made in a hole in the ground, and is then buried.\\nNote 4, verse 85. Flies^ This is perhaps an an-\\nachronism. Even speaking of to-day in Tahiti, the phrase\\nwould have to be understood as referring mainly to mos-\\nquitoes, and these only in watered valleys with close woods,\\nsuch as I suppose to form the surroundings of Rahero s\\nhomestead. Quarter of a mile away, where the air moves\\nfreely, you shall look in vain for one.\\nNote 5, verse 115. /^oi of mother-of-pearl. Eright-\\nhook fishing, and that with the spear, appear to be the\\nfavourite native methods.\\nNote 6, verse 133. \u00e2\u0096\u00a0Leaves, the plates of Tahiti.\\nNote 7, verse 144. Yotlozuas, so spelt for convenience\\nof pronunciation, qtiasi Tacksmen in the Scottish High-\\nlands. The organization of eight sub-districts and eight\\nyottowas to a division, which was in use (until yesterday)\\namong the Tevas, I have attributed without authority to\\nthe next clan see verses 341-2.\\nNote 8, verse 160. ^^Omare, pronounce as a dactyl.\\nA loaded quarter-staff, one of the two favourite weapcms", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0201.jp2"}, "200": {"fulltext": "168 NOTES TO THE SONG OF RAHERO,\\nof the Tahitian brave; the javelin, or casting spear, was\\nthe other.\\nNote 9, verse 202. The ribbon of lights Still to be\\nseen (and heard) spinning from one marae to another on\\nTahiti; or so I have it upon evidence that would rejoice\\nthe Psychical Society.\\nNote 10, verse 221. Ndiminu-uraP The complete\\nname is Namunu-ura te aropa. Why it should be pro-\\nnounced Namunu, dactylHcally, I cannot see, but so I\\nhave always heard it. This was the clan immediately be-\\nyond the Tevas on the south coast of the island. At the\\ndate of the tale the clan organization must have been\\nvery weak. There is no particular mention of Tamatea s\\nmother going to Papara, to the head chief of her own clan,\\nwhich would appear her natural recourse. On the other\\nhand, she seems to have visited various lesser chiefs among\\nthe Tevas, and these to have excused themselves solely on\\nthe danger of the enterprise. The broad distinction here\\ndrawn between Nateva and Namunu-ura is therefore not\\nimpossibly anachronistic.\\nNote II, verse 223. Hiopa the king^ Hiopa was\\nreally the name of the king (chief) of Vaiau; but I could\\nnever learn that of the king of Paea pronounce to rhyme\\nwith the Indian ayah and I gave the name where it was\\nmost needed. This note must appear otiose indeed to\\nreaders who have never heard of either of these two\\ngentlemen; and perhaps there is only one person in the\\nworld capable at once of reading my verses and spying\\nthe inaccuracy. For him, for Mr. Tati Salmon, hereditary\\nhigh chief of the Tevas, the note is solely written a small\\nattention from a clansman to his chief.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0202.jp2"}, "201": {"fulltext": "NOTES TO THE SONG OF RAHERO. 1G9\\nNote 12, verse 239. Zf/ t/ie pigs be tapu.^ It is\\nimpossible to explain tapii in a note; we have it as an\\nEnglish word, taboo. Suffice it, that a thing which was\\ntapu must not be touched, nor a place that was tapu\\nvisited.\\nNote 13, verse 354. Fis/i, the food of desire. There\\nis a special word in the Tahitian language to signify hun-\\ngering after fish. I may remark that here is one of my\\nchief difficulties about the whole story. How did king,\\ncommons, women, and all come to eat together at this\\nfeast? But it troubled none of my numerous authorities;\\nso there must certainly be some natural explanation.\\nNote 14, verse 429. llie uiustering word of the clan.^^\\nTeva te it a,\\nTeva te matal!\\nTeva the wind,\\nTeva the rain\\nNote 15, verse 546. Note 16, verse 548. The star\\nof the deady Venus as a morning star. I have collected\\nmuch curious evidence as to this belief. The dead retain\\ntheir taste for a fish diet, enter into copartnery with living\\nfishers, and haunt the reef and the lagoon. The conclu-\\nsion attributed to the nameless lady of the legend would\\nbe reached to-day, under the like circumstances, by ninety\\nper cent, of Polynesians; and here I probably understate\\nby one-tenth.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0203.jp2"}, "202": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0204.jp2"}, "203": {"fulltext": "THE FEAST OF FAMINE.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0205.jp2"}, "204": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0206.jp2"}, "205": {"fulltext": "THE FEAST OF FAMINE: MARQUESAN\\nMANNERS.\\nI. THE priest s vigil.\\nIn all the land of the tribe was neither fish\\nnor fruit,\\nAnd the deepest pit of popoi stood empty to\\nthe foot.^\\nThe clans upon the left and the clans upon\\nthe right\\nNow oiled their carven maces and scoured\\ntheir daggers bright;\\nThey gat them to the thicket, to the deepest\\nof the shade.\\nAnd lay with sleepless eyes in the deadly\\nambuscade.\\nAnd oft in the starry even the song of morn-\\ning rose.\\nWhat time the oven smoked in the country of\\ntheir foes;\\n173", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0207.jp2"}, "206": {"fulltext": "174 THE FEAST OF FAMINE:\\nFor oft to loving hearts, and waiting ears and\\nsight,\\nThe lads that went to forage returned not with\\nthe night. lo\\nNow first the children sickened, and then the\\nwomen paled,\\nAnd the great arms of the warrior no more for\\nwar availed.\\nHushed was the deep drum, discarded was the\\ndance;\\nAnd those that met the priest now glanced at\\nhim askance.\\nThe priest was a man of years, his eyes were\\nruby-red,\\nHe neither feared the dark nor the terrors of\\nthe dead.\\nHe knew the songs of races, the names of\\nancient date;\\nAnd the beard upon his bosom would have\\nbought the chief s estate.\\nHe dwelt in a high-built lodge, hard by the\\nroaring shore.\\nRaised on a noble terrace and with tikis at\\nthe door. 20", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0208.jp2"}, "207": {"fulltext": "MAROUESAN MANNERS. 175\\nWithin it was full of riches, for he served his\\nnation well,\\nAnd full of the sound of breakers, like the\\nhollow of a shell.\\nFor weeks he let them perish, gave never a\\nhelping sign,\\nBut sat on his oiled platform to commune\\nwith the divine.\\nBut sat on his high terrace, with the tikis by\\nhis side.\\nAnd stared on the blue ocean, like a parrot,\\nruby-eyed.\\nDawn as yellow as sulphur leaped on the\\nmountain height:\\nOut on the round of the sea the gems of the\\nmorning light.\\nUp from the round of the sea the streamers of\\nthe sun\\nBut down in the depths of the valley the day\\nwas not begun. 30\\nIn the blue of the woody twilight burned red\\nthe cocoa-husk,", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0209.jp2"}, "208": {"fulltext": "176 THE FEAST OF FAMINE:\\nAnd the women and men of the clan went\\nforth to bathe in the dusk.\\nA word that began to go round, a word, a\\nwhisper, a start:\\nHope that leaped in the bosom, fear that\\nknocked on the heart:\\nSee, the priest is not risen look, for his\\ndoor is fast!\\nHe is going to name the victims; he is going\\nto help us at last.\\nThrice rose the sun to noon; and ever, like\\none of the dead,\\nThe priest lay still in his house with the roar\\nof the sea in his head;\\nThere was never a foot on the floor, there was\\nnever a whisper of speech;\\nOnly the leering tikis stared on the blinding\\nbeach. 40\\nAgain were the mountains fired, again the\\nmorning broke;\\nAnd all the houses lay still, but the house of\\nthe priest awoke.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0210.jp2"}, "209": {"fulltext": "M^ftQUESAN MANNERS. 177\\nClose in their covering roofs lay and trembled\\nthe clan,\\nBut the aged, red-eyed priest ran forth like a\\nlunatic man;\\nAnd the village panted to see him in the jewels\\nof death again,\\nIn the silver beards of the old and the hair of\\nwomen slain.\\nFrenzy shook in his limbs, frenzy shone in his\\neyes.\\nAnd still and again as he ran, the valley rang\\nwith his cries.\\nAll day long in the land, by cliff and thicket\\nand den.\\nHe ran his lunatic rounds, and howled for the\\nflesh of men; 50\\nAll day long he ate not, nor ever drank of the\\nbrook\\nAnd all day long in their houses the people\\nlistened and shook\\nAll day long in their houses they listened with\\nbated breath.\\nAnd never a soul went forth, for the sight of\\nthe priest was death.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0211.jp2"}, "210": {"fulltext": "178 THE FEAST OF FAMINE:\\nThree were the days of his riyining, as the\\ngods appointed of yore,\\nTwo the nights of his sleeping alone in the\\nplace of gore\\nThe drunken slumber of frenzy twice he drank\\nto the lees,\\nOn the sacred stones of the High-place under\\nthe sacred trees;\\nWith a lamp at his ashen head he lay in the\\nplace of the feast,\\nAnd the sacred leaves of the banyan rustled\\naround the priest. 60\\nLast, when the stated even fell upon terrace\\nand tree.\\nAnd the shade of the lofty island lay leagues\\naway to sea,\\nAnd all the valleys of verdure were heavy with\\nmanna and musk.\\nThe wreck of the red-eyed priest came gasping\\nhome in the dusk.\\nHe reeled across the village, he staggered along\\nthe shore.\\nAnd between the leering tikis crept groping\\nthrough his door.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0212.jp2"}, "211": {"fulltext": "MARQUES AN MANNERS. 179\\nThere went a stir through the lodges, the voice\\nof speech awoke;\\nOnce more from the builded platforms arose\\nthe evening smoke.\\nAnd those who were mighty in war, and those\\nrenowned for an art\\nSat in their stated seats and talked of the\\nmorrow apart.\\nII. THE LOVERS.\\nHark away in the woods for the ears of\\nlove are sharp\\nStealthily, quietly touched, the note of the one-\\nstringed harp.\\nIn the lighted house of her father, why should\\nTaheia start?\\nTaheia heavy of hair, Taheia tender of\\nheart,\\nTaheia the well-descended, a bountiful dealer\\nin love.\\nNimble of foot like the deer, and kind of eye\\nlike the dove?", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0213.jp2"}, "212": {"fulltext": "180 THE FEAST OF FAMINE:\\nSly and shy as a cat, with never a change of\\nface,\\nTaheia slips to the door, like one that would\\nbreathe a space;\\nSaunters and pauses, and looks at the stars,\\nand lists to the seas;\\nThen sudden and swift as a cat, she plunges\\nunder the trees. So\\nSwift as a cat she runs, with her garment gath-\\nered high,\\nLeaping, nimble of foot, running, certain of\\neye;\\nAnd ever to guide her way over the smooth and\\nthe sharp,\\nEver nearer and nearer the note of the one--\\nstringed harp;\\nTill at length, in a glade of the wood, with a\\nnaked mountain above,\\nThe sound of the harp thrown down, and she\\nin the arms of her love.\\nRua Taheia they cry my heart, my\\nsoul, and my eyes,\\nAnd clasp and sunder and kiss, with lovely\\nlaughter and sighs,", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0214.jp2"}, "213": {"fulltext": "M/IRQUrS^N MANNERS. 181\\nRua! Taheia, my love, Rua, star of\\nmy night,\\nClasp me, hold me, and love me, single spring\\nof delight. 90\\nAnd Riia folded her close, he folded her near\\nand long,\\nThe living knit to the living, and sang the\\nlover s song:\\nNight, night it is, night upon the palms.\\nNight, night it is, the land wind has blown.\\nStarry, starry nig Jit, over deep and height;\\nLove, love in the valley, love all alone.\\nTaheia, heavy of hair, a foolish thing have\\nwe done.\\nTo bind what gods have sundered unkindly into\\none.\\nWhy should a lowly lover have touched Taheia s\\nskirt,\\nTaheia the well-descended, and Rua child of\\nthe dirt? 100", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0215.jp2"}, "214": {"fulltext": "182 THE FEAST OF FAMINE:\\nOn high with the haka-ikis my father sits\\nin state,\\nTen times fifty kinsmen salute him in the gate;\\nRound all his martial body, and in bands across\\nhis face.\\nThe marks of the tattooer proclaim his lofty\\nplace.\\nI, too, in the hands of the cunning, in the\\nsacred cabin of palm,^\\nHave shrunk like the mimosa, and bleated like\\nthe lamb;\\nRound half my tender body, that none shall\\nclasp but you,\\nFor a crest and a fair adornment go dainty\\nlines of blue.\\nLove, love, beloved Rua, love levels all de-\\ngrees.\\nAnd the well-tattooed Taheia clings panting to\\nyour knees. no\\nTaheia, song of the morning, how long is\\nthe longest love?\\nA cry, a clasp of the hands, a star that falls\\nfrom above", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0216.jp2"}, "215": {"fulltext": "MARQUESAN MANNERS. 183\\nEver at morn in the blue, and at night when\\nall is black,\\nEver it skulks and trembles with the hunter.\\nDeath, on its track.\\nHear me, Taheia, death For to-morrow the\\npriest shall awake,\\nAnd the names be named of the victims to\\nbleed for the nation s sake;\\nAnd first of the numbered many that shall be\\nslain ere noon,\\nRua the child of the dirt, Rua the kinless loon.\\nFor him shall the drum be beat, for him be\\nraised the song.\\nFor him to the sacred High-place the chaunting\\npeople throng, 120\\nFor him the oven smoke as for a speechless\\nbeast.\\nAnd the sire of my Taheia come greedy to the\\nfeast.\\nRua, be silent, spare me. Taheia closes\\nher ears.\\nPity my yearning heart, pity my girlish years!\\nFlee from the cruel hands, flee from the knife\\nand coal.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0217.jp2"}, "216": {"fulltext": "184 THE FEAST OF FAMINE:\\nLie hid in the deeps of the woods, Rua, sire\\nof my soul\\nWhither to flee, Taheia, whither in all of the\\nland?\\nThe fires of the bloody kitchen are kindled\\non every hand;\\nOn every hand in the isle a hungry whetting\\nof teeth,\\nEyes in the trees above, arms in the brush\\nbeneath. 130\\nPatience to lie in wait, cunning to follow the\\nsleuth,\\nAbroad the foes I have fought, and at home\\nthe friends of my youth.\\nLove, love, beloved Rua, love has a clearer\\neye.\\nHence from the arms of love you go not forth\\nto die.\\nThere, where the broken mountain drops sheer\\ninto the glen.\\nThere shall you find a hold from the boldest\\nhunter of men;", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0218.jp2"}, "217": {"fulltext": "MARQUES AN MANNERS. 185\\nThere, in the deep recess, where the sun falls\\nonly at noon,\\nAnd only once in the night enters the light\\nof the moon,\\nNor ever a sound but of birds, or the rain\\nwhen it falls with a shout;\\nFor death and the fear of death beleaguer the\\nvalley about. 140\\nTapu it is, but the gods will surely pardon\\ndespair;\\nTapu, but what of that? If Rua can only\\ndare.\\nTapu and tapu and tapu, I know they are every\\none right;\\nBut the god of every tapu is not always quick\\nto smite.\\nLie secret there, my Rua, in the arms of awful\\ngods,\\nSleep in the shade of the trees on the couch of\\nthe kindly sods,\\nSleep and dream of Taheia, Taheia will wake\\nfor you;\\nAnd whenever the land wind blows and the\\nwoods are heavy with dew,", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0219.jp2"}, "218": {"fulltext": "186 THE FEAST OF FAMINE:\\nAlone through the horror of night/ with food\\nfor the soul of her love,\\nTaheia the undissuaded will hurry true as the\\ndove. 150\\nTaheia, the pit of the night crawls with\\ntreacherous things.\\nSpirits of ultimate air and the evil souls of\\nthings;\\nThe souls of the dead, the stranglers, that\\nperch in the trees of the wood,\\nWaiters for all things human, haters of evil\\nand good.\\nRua, behold me, kiss me, look in my eyes\\nand read;\\nAre these the eyes of a maid that would leave\\nher lover in need?\\nBrave in the eye of day, my father ruled in\\nthe fight;\\nThe child of his loins, Taheia, will play the\\nman in the night.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0220.jp2"}, "219": {"fulltext": "MAROUESAN MANNERS. 187\\nSo it was spoken, and so agreed, and Taheia\\narose\\nAnd smiled in the stars and was gone, swift as\\nthe swallow goes; i6o\\nAnd Rua stood on the hill, and sighed, and\\nfollowed her flight.\\nAnd there were the lodges below, each with its\\ndoor alight;\\nFrom folk that sat on the terrace and drew out\\nthe even long\\nSudden crowings of laughter, monotonous drone\\nof song;\\nThe quiet passage of souls over his head in\\nthe trees;\\nAnd from all around the haven the crumbling\\nthunder of seas.\\nFarewell, my home, said Rua. Farewell,\\nO quiet seat!\\nTo-morrow in all your valleys the drum of death\\nshall beat.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0221.jp2"}, "220": {"fulltext": "188 THE FEAST OF FAMINE:\\nIII. THE FEAST.\\nDawn as yellow as sulphur leaped on the naked\\npeak,\\nAnd all the village was stirring, for now was the\\npriest to speak. 170\\nForth on his terrace he came, and sat with the\\nchief in talk;\\nHis lips were blackened with fever, his cheeks\\nwere whiter than chalk;\\nFever clutched at his hands, fever nodded his\\nhead,\\nBut, quiet and steady and cruel, his eyes shone\\nruby-red.\\nIn the earliest rays of the sun the chief rose\\nup content;\\nBraves were summoned, and drummers; mes-\\nsengers came and went;\\nBraves ran to their lodges, weapons were\\nsnatched from the wall;\\nThe commons herded together, and fear was\\nover them all.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0222.jp2"}, "221": {"fulltext": "MA ROUES /IN MANNERS. 189\\nFestival dresses they wore, but the tongue was\\ndry in their mouth,\\nAnd the blinking eyes in their faces skirted\\nfrom north to south. iSo\\nNow to the sacred enclosure gathered the\\ngreatest and least,\\nAnd from under the shade of the Banyan arose\\nthe voice of the feast,\\nThe frenzied roll of the drum, and a swift,\\nmonotonous song.\\nHigher the sun swam up; the trade wind level\\nand strong\\nAwoke in the tops of the palms and rattled the\\nfans aloud,\\nAnd over the garlanded heads and shining robes\\nof the crowd\\nTossed the spiders of shadow, scattered the\\njewels of sun.\\nForty the tale of the drums, and the forty\\nthrobbed like one;\\nA thousand hearts in the crowd, and the even\\nchorus of song,", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0223.jp2"}, "222": {"fulltext": "190 THE FEAST OF FAMINE:\\nSwift as the feet of a runner, trampled a thou-\\nsand strong. 190\\nAnd the old men leered at the ovens and\\nlicked their lips for the food;\\nAnd the women stared at the lads, and laughed\\nand looked to the wood.\\nAs when the sweltering baker, at night, when\\nthe city is dead.\\nAlone in the trough of labour treads and fashions\\nthe bread;\\nSo in the heat, and the reek, and the touch of\\nwoman and man.\\nThe naked spirit of evil kneaded the hearts of\\nthe clan.\\nNow cold was at many a heart, and shaking\\nin many a seat;\\nFor there were the empty baskets, but who was\\nto furnish the meat?\\nFor here was the nation assembled, and there\\nwere the ovens anigh,\\nAnd out of a thousand singers nine were num-\\nbered to die. 200", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0224.jp2"}, "223": {"fulltext": "MA ROUE SAN MANNERS. 191\\nTill, of a sudden, a shock, a mace in the air, a yell.\\nAnd, struck in the edge of the crowd, the first\\nof the victims fell.\u00c2\u00ae\\nTerror and horrible glee divided the shrinking\\nclan,\\nTerror of what was to follow, glee for a diet of\\nman.\\nFrenzy hurried the chaunt, frenzy rattled the\\ndrums\\nThe nobles, high on the terrace, greedily\\nmouthed their thumbs;\\nAnd once and again and again, in the ignorant\\ncrowd below,\\nOnce and again and again descended the mur-\\nderous blow.\\nNow smoked the oven, and now, with the cut-\\nting lip of a shell,\\nA butcher of ninety winters jointed the bodies\\nwell. 2IO\\nUnto the carven lodge, silent, in order due,\\nThe grandees of the nation one after one with-\\ndrew\\nAnd a line of laden bearers brought to the\\nterrace foot,", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0225.jp2"}, "224": {"fulltext": "192 THE FEAST OF FAMINE:\\nOn poles across their shoulders, the last reserve\\nof fruit.\\nThe victims bled for the nobles in the old ap-\\npointed way;\\nThe fruit was spread for the commons, for all\\nshould eat to-day.\\nAnd now was the kava brewed, and now the\\ncocoa ran.\\nNow was the hour of the dance for child and\\nwoman and man;\\nAnd mirth was in every heart, and a garland\\non every head.\\nAnd all was well with the living and well with\\nthe eight who were dead. 220\\nOnly the chiefs and the priest talked and con-\\nsulted awhile\\nTo-morrow, they said, and To-morrow,\\nand nodded and seemed to smile\\nRua the child of dirt, the creature of common\\nclay,\\nRua must die to-morrow, since Rua is gone\\nto-day.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0226.jp2"}, "225": {"fulltext": "MARQUESAN MANNERS. 193\\nOut of the groves of the valley, where clear the\\nblackbirds sang,\\nSheer from the trees of the valley the face of\\nthe mountain sprang;\\nSheer and bare it rose, unscalable barricade.\\nBeaten and blown against by the generous\\ndraught of the trade.\\nDawn on its fluted brow painted rainbow light,\\nClose on its pinnacled crown trembled the stars\\nat night. 230\\nHere and there in a cleft clustered contorted\\ntrees.\\nOr the silver beard of a stream hung and swung\\nin the breeze.\\nHigh overhead, with a cry, the torrents leaped\\nfor the main.\\nAnd silently sprinkled below in thin perennial\\nrain.\\nDark in the staring noon, dark was Rua s\\nravine,\\nDamp and cold was the air, and the face of\\nthe cliffs was green.\\nHere, in the rocky pit, accursed already of\\nold,", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0227.jp2"}, "226": {"fulltext": "194 THE FEAST OF FAMINE:\\nOn a stone in the midst of a river, Rua sat\\nand was cold.\\nValley of mid-day shadows, valley of silent\\nfalls,\\nRua sang, and his voice went hollow about the\\nwalls, 240\\nValley of shadow and rock, a doleful prison\\nto me.\\nWhat is the life you can give to a child of\\nthe sun and the sea?\\nAnd Rua arose and came to the open mouth of\\nthe glen.\\nWhence he beheld the woods, and the sea, and\\nhouses of men.\\nWide blew the riotous trade, and smelt in his\\nnostrils good;\\nIt bowed the boats on the bay, and tore and\\ndivided the wood;\\nIt smote and sundered the groves as Moses\\nsmote with the rod.\\nAnd the streamers of all the trees blew like\\nbanners abroad;", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0228.jp2"}, "227": {"fulltext": "MA ROUES AN MANNERS. 195\\nAnd ever and on, in a lull, the trade wind\\nbrought him along\\nA far-off patter of drums and a far-off whisper\\nof song. 250\\nSwift as the swallow s wings, the diligent hands\\non the drum\\nFluttered and hurried and throbbed. Ah, woe\\nthat I hear you come,\\nRua cried in his grief, a sorrowful sound to me.\\nMounting far and faint from the resonant shore\\nof the sea\\nWoe in the song! for the grave breathes in the\\nsingers breath,\\nAnd I hear in the tramp of the drums the beat\\nof the heart of death.\\nHome of my youth no more, through all the\\nlength of the years.\\nNo more to the place of the echoes of early\\nlaughter and tears,\\nNo more shall Rua return; no more as the\\nevening ends.\\nTo crowded eyes of welcome, to the reaching\\nhands of friends. 260", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0229.jp2"}, "228": {"fulltext": "196 THE FEAST OF FAMINE:\\nAll day long from the High-place the drums\\nand the singing came,\\nAnd the even fell, and the sun went down, a\\nwheel of flame;\\nAnd. night came gleaning the shadows and\\nhushing the sounds of the w^ood;\\nAnd silence slept on all, where Rua sorrowed\\nand stood.\\nBut \u00c2\u00abtill from the shore of the bay the sound\\nof the festival rang.\\nAnd still the crowd in the High-place danced\\nand shouted and sang.\\nNow over all the isle terror was breathed abroad\\nOf shadowy hands from the trees and shadowy\\nsnares in the sod;\\nAnd before the nostrils of night, the shuddering\\nhunter of men\\nHurried, with beard on shoulder, back to his\\nlighted den. 270\\nTaheia, here to my side! Rua, my Rua,\\nyou\\nAnd cold from the clutch of terror, cold vvith\\nthe damp of the dew,", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0230.jp2"}, "229": {"fulltext": "MARQUESAN MANNERS. 197\\nTaheia, heavy of hair, leaped through the dark\\nto his arms;\\nTaheia leaped to his clasp, and was folded in\\nfrom alarms.\\nRua, beloved, here, see what your love has\\nbrought;\\nComing alas! returning swift as the shuttle\\nof thought;\\nReturning, alas! for to-night, with the beaten\\ndrum and the voice.\\nIn the shine of many torches must the sleep-\\nless clan rejoice;\\nAnd Taheia the well-descended, the daughter of\\nchief and priest,\\nTaheia must sit in her place in the crowded\\nbench of the feast. 280\\nSo it was spoken; and she, girding her garment\\nhigh,\\nFled and was swallowed of woods, swift as the\\nsight of an eye.\\nNight over isle and sea rolled her curtain of\\nstars.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0231.jp2"}, "230": {"fulltext": "198 THE FEAST OF FAMINE:\\nThen a trouble awoke in the air, the east was\\nbanded with bars;\\nDawn as yellow as sulphur leaped on the\\nmountain height;\\nDawn, in the deepest glen, fell a wonder of\\nlight;\\nHigh and clear stood the palms in the eye of\\nthe brightening east.\\nAnd lo! from the sides of the sea the broken\\nsound of the feast!\\nAs, when in days of summer, through open\\nwindows, the fly\\nSwift as a breeze and loud as a trump goes\\nby, 290\\nBut when frosts in the field have pinched the\\nwintering mouse,\\nBlindly noses and buzzes and hums in the fire-\\nlit house:\\nSo the sound of the feast gallantly trampled at\\nnight,\\nSo it staggered and drooped, and droned in the\\nmorning light.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0232.jp2"}, "231": {"fulltext": "MARQUESAN MANNERS. 199\\nIV. THE RAID.\\nIt chanced that as Rua sat in the valley of\\nsilent falls,\\nHe heard a calling of doves from high on the\\ncliffy walls.\\nFire had fashioned of yore, and time had\\nbroken, the rocks;\\nThere were rooting crannies for trees and\\nnesting-places for flocks;\\nAnd he saw on the top of the cliffs, looking\\nup from the pit of the shade,\\nA flicker of wings and sunshine, and trees that\\nswung in the trade. 300\\nThe trees swing in the trade, quoth Rua,\\ndoubtful of words,\\nxAnd the sun stares from the sky, but what\\nshould trouble the birds?\\nUp from the shade he gazed, where high the\\nparapet shone,\\nAnd he was aware of a ledge and of things that\\nmoved thereon.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0233.jp2"}, "232": {"fulltext": "200 THE FEAST OF FAMINE:\\nWhat manner of things are these? Are they\\nspirits abroad by day?\\nOr the foes of my clan that are come, bringing\\ndeath by a perilous way?\\nThe valley was gouged like a vessel, and round\\nlike the vessel s lip.\\nWith a cape of the side of the hill thrust forth\\nlike the bows of a ship.\\nOn the top of the face of the cape a volley of\\nsun struck fair,\\nAnd the cape overhung like a chin a gulph of\\nsunless air. 310\\nSilence, heart! What is that? that, that\\nflickered and shone,\\nInto the sun for an instant, and in an instant\\ngone\\nWas it a warrior s plume, a warrior s girdle of\\nhair?\\nSwung in the loop of a rope, is he making a\\nbridge of the air?\\nOnce and again Rua saw, in the trenchant\\nedge of the sky,", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0234.jp2"}, "233": {"fulltext": "MAROUESAN MANNERS. 201\\nThe giddy conjuring done. And then, in the\\nblink of an eye,\\nA scream caught in with the breath, a whirling\\npacket of limbs,\\nA lump that dived in the gulph, more swift\\nthan a dolphin swims;\\nAnd there was the lump at his feet, and eyes\\nwere alive in the lump.\\nSick was the soul of Rua, ambushed close in\\na clump; 320\\nSick of soul he drew near, making his courage\\nstout\\nAnd he looked in the face of the thing, and\\nthe life of the thing went out.\\nAnd he gazed on the tattooed limbs, and,\\nbehold, he knew the man:\\nHoka, a chief of the Vais, the truculent foe of\\nhis clan\\nHoka a moment since that stepped in the loop\\nof the rope.\\nFilled with the lust of war, and alive with\\ncourage and hope.\\nAgain to the giddy cornice Rua lifted his eyes,", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0235.jp2"}, "234": {"fulltext": "202 THE FEAST OP FAMINE:\\nAnd again beheld men passing in the armpit\\nof the sivies.\\nFoes of my race cried Rua, the mouth of\\nRua is true\\nNever a shark in the deep is nobler of soul\\nthan you. 330\\nThere was never a nobler foray, never a bolder\\nplan\\nNever a dizzier path was trod by the children\\nof man;\\nAnd Rua, your evil-dealer through all the days\\nof his years,\\nCounts it honour to hate you, honour to fall\\nby your spears.\\nAnd Rua straightened his back. O Vais, a\\nscheme for a scheme\\nCried Rua and turned and descended the tur-\\nbulent stair of the stream.\\nLeaping from rock to rock as the water-wagtail\\nat home\\nFlits through resonant valleys and skims by\\nboulder and foam.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0236.jp2"}, "235": {"fulltext": "MAROUESAN MANNERS. 203\\nAnd Rua burst from the glen and leaped on\\nthe shore of the brook,\\nAnd straight for the roofs of the clan his vig-\\norous way he took. 340\\nSwift were the heels of his flight, and loud\\nbehind as he went\\nRattled the leaping stones on the line of his\\nlong descent.\\nAnd ever he thought as he ran, and caught at\\nhis gasping breath,\\nO the fool of a Rua, Rua that runs to his\\ndeath\\nBut the right, is the right, thought Rua, and\\nran like the wind on the foam,\\nThe right is the right for ever, and home for\\never home.\\nFor what though the oven smoke? And what\\nthough I die ere morn?\\nThere was I nourished and tended, and there\\nwas Taheia born.\\nNoon was high on the High-place, the second\\nnoon of the feast;\\nAnd heat and shameful slumber weighed on\\npeople and priest; 350", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0237.jp2"}, "236": {"fulltext": "204 THE FEAST OF FAMINE:\\nAnd the heart drudged slow in bodies heavy\\nwith monstrous meals;\\nAnd the senseless limbs were scattered abroad\\nlike spokes of wheels;\\nAnd crapulous women sat and stared at the\\nstones anigh\\nWith a bestial droop of the lip and a swinish\\nrheum in the eye.\\nAs about the dome of the bees in the time for\\nthe drones to fall,\\nThe dead and the maimed are scattered, and\\nlie, and stagger, and crawl;\\nSo on the grades of the terrace, in the ardent\\neye of the day.\\nThe half-awake and the sleepers clustered and\\ncrawled and lay;\\nAnd loud as the dome of the bees, in the time\\nof a swarming horde,\\nA horror of many insects hung in the air and\\nroared. 360\\nRua looked and wondered; he said to himself\\nin his heart:\\ni", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0238.jp2"}, "237": {"fulltext": "MAROUESAN MANNERS. 205\\nPoor are the pleasures of life, and death is\\nthe better part.\\nBut lo on the higher benches a cluster of\\ntranquil folk\\nSat by themselves, nor raised their serious eyes,\\nnor spoke\\nWomen with robes unruffled and garlands duly\\narranged.\\nGazing far from the feast with faces of people\\nestranged;\\nAnd quiet amongst the quiet, and fairer than\\nall the fair,\\nTaheia, the well-descended, Taheia, heavy of\\nhair.\\nAnd the soul of Rua awoke, courage en-\\nlightened his eyes.\\nAnd he uttered a summoning shout and called\\non the clan to rise. -,70\\nOver against him at once, in the spotted shade\\nof the trees,\\nOwlish and blinking creatures scrambled to\\nhands and knees;", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0239.jp2"}, "238": {"fulltext": "20G THE FEAST OF FAMINE:\\nOn the grades of the sacred terrace, the drivel-\\nler woke to fear,\\nAnd the hand of the ham-drooped warrior\\nbrandished a wavering spear.\\nAnd Rua folded his arms, and scorn discovered\\nhis teeth;\\nAbove the war-crowd gibbered, and Rua stood\\nsmiling beneath.\\nThick, like leaves in the autumn, faint, like\\nApril sleet,\\nMissiles from tremulous hands quivered around\\nhis feet;\\nAnd Taheia leaped from her place; and the\\npriest, the ruby-eyed,\\nRan to the front of the terrace, and brandished\\nhis arms, and cried 3S0\\nHold, O fools, he brings tidings! and Hold,\\ntis the love of my heart!\\nTill lo! in front of the terrace, Rua pierced\\nwith a dart.\\nTaheia cherished his head, and the aged priest\\nstood by,", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0240.jp2"}, "239": {"fulltext": "M/iROUESAN MANNERS. 207\\nAnd gazed with eyes of ruby at Rua s darkening\\neye.\\nTaheia, here is the end, I die a death for a\\nman.\\nI have given the life of my soul to save an\\nunsavable clan.\\nSee them, the drooping of hams! behold me\\nthe blinking crew:\\nFifty spears they cast, and one of fifty true\\nAnd you, O priest, the foreteller, foretell for\\nyourself if you can.\\nForetell the hour of the day when the Vais shall\\nburst on your clan 390\\nBy the head of the tapu cleft, with death and\\nfire in their hand.\\nThick and silent like ants, the warriors swarm\\nin the land.\\nAnd they tell that when next the sun had\\nclimbed to the noonday skies.\\nIt shone on the smoke of feasting in the country\\nof the Vais.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0241.jp2"}, "240": {"fulltext": "NOTES TO THE FEAST OF FAMINE.\\nIn this ballad I have strung together some of the more\\nstriking particularities of the Marquesas. It rests upon no\\nauthority; it is in no sense, like Rahero, a native stoiy;\\nbut a patchwork of details of manners and the impressionc\\nof a traveller. It may seem strange, when the scene is laid\\nupon these profligate islands, to make the story hinge on\\nlove. But love is not less known in the Marquesas than\\nelsewhere; nor is there any cause of suicide more common\\nin the islands.\\nNote I, verse 2. \u00e2\u0096\u00a0Pit of popoi^ Where the bread-\\nfruit was stored for preservation.\\nNote 2, verse 15. Ruby -red. The priest s eyes were\\nprobably red from the abuse of Rava. His ]-)eard (verse\\n18) is said to ])e worth an estate; for the beards of old\\nmen are the favourite head adornment of the Marquesans,\\nas the hair of women formed their most costly girdle. The\\nformer, among this generally beardless and short-lived\\npeople, fetch to-day considerable sums.\\nNote 3, verse 20. TikisP The tiki is an ugly image\\nhewn out of wood or stone.\\nNote 4, verse 72. The one-stringed harp: Usually\\nemployed for serenades.\\nNote 5; verse 105. ^^The sacred cabin of palinP\\nWhich, however, no woman could approach. I do not\\nknow where women were tattooed; probal)ly in the com-\\n208", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0242.jp2"}, "241": {"fulltext": "NOTES TO THE FEAST OF FAMINE. 209\\nmon house, or in the bush, for a woman was a creature of\\nsmall account. I must guar .l the reader against supposing\\nTaheia was at all disfigured; the art of the Marquesan\\ntattooer is extreme; and she would appear to be clothed\\nin a web of lace, inimitably delicate, exquisite in pattern,\\nand of a bluish hue that at once contrasts and harmonizes\\nwith the warm pigment of the native skin. It would be\\nhard to find a woman more becomingly adorned than a\\nwell-tattooed Marquesan.\\nNote 6, verse 149. 77ie horror of night P The Poly-\\nnesian fear of ghosts and of the dark has been already\\nreferred to. Their life is beleaguered by the dead.\\nNote 7, verse 165. The quiet passage of souls.^ So, I\\nam told, the natives explain the sound of a little wind pass-\\ning overhead unfelt.\\nNote 8, verse 202. The first of the victims fellP\\nWithout doubt, this whole scene is untrue to fact. The\\nvictims were disposed of privately and some time before.\\nAnd indeed I am far from claiming the credit of any high\\ndegree of accuracy for this ballad. Even in a time of fam-\\nine, it is probable that Marquesan life went far more gaily\\nthan is here represented. But the melancholy of to-day\\nlies on the writer s mind.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0243.jp2"}, "242": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0244.jp2"}, "243": {"fulltext": "TICONDEROGA.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0245.jp2"}, "244": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0246.jp2"}, "245": {"fulltext": "TICONDEROGA: A LEGEND OF THE\\nWEST HIGHLANDS.\\nThis is the tale of the man\\nWho heard a word in the night\\nIn the land of the heathery hills,\\nIn the days of the feud and the fight.\\nBy the sides of the rainy sea,\\nWhere never a stranger came,\\nOn the awful lips of the dead,\\nHe heard the outlandish name.\\nIt sang in his sleeping ears.\\nIt hummed in his waking head: i\\nThe name Ticonderoga,\\nThe utterance of the dead.\\nI. THE SAYING OF THE NAME.\\nOn the loch-sides of Appin,\\nWhen the mist blew from the sea,\\nA Stewart stood with a Cameron:\\nAn angry man was he.\\n213", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0247.jp2"}, "246": {"fulltext": "214 TICONDEROGA A LEGEND OF\\nThe blood beat in his ears,\\nThe blood ran hot to his head,\\nThe mist blew from the sea,\\nAnd there was the Cameron dead.\\nO, what have I done to my friend,\\nO, what have I done to mysel\\nThat he should be cold and dead.\\nAnd I in the danger of all?\\nNothing but danger about me,\\nDanger behind and before,\\nDeath at wait in the heather\\nIn Appin and Mamore,\\nHate at all of the ferries\\nAnd death at each of the fords,\\nCamerons priming gunlocks\\nAnd Camerons sharpening swords.\\nBut this was a man of counsel,\\nThis was a man of a score.\\nThere dwelt no pawkier Stewart\\nIn Appin or Mamore.\\nHe looked on the blowing mist.\\nHe looked on the awful dead.\\n3\u00c2\u00b0", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0248.jp2"}, "247": {"fulltext": "l.k^.V\\nO, what have I done to rry Friend?", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0249.jp2"}, "248": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0250.jp2"}, "249": {"fulltext": "THE IV EST HIGHLANDS. 215\\nAnd there came a smile on his face 39\\nAnd there slipped a thought in his head.\\nOut over cairn and moss,\\nOut over scrog and scaur,\\nHe ran as runs the clansman\\nThat bears the cross of war.\\nHis heart beat in his body,\\nHis hair clove to his face,\\nWhen he came at last in the gloaming\\nTo the dead man s brother s place.\\nThe east was white with the moon,\\nThe west with the sun was red, 50\\nAnd there, in the house-doorway,\\nStood the brother of the dead.\\nI have slain a man to my danger,\\nI have slain a man to my death.\\nI put my soul in your hands,\\nThe panting Stewart saith.\\nI lay it bare in your hands.\\nFor I know your hands are leal;\\nAnd be you my targe and bulwark\\nFrom the bullet and the steel. 60", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0251.jp2"}, "250": {"fulltext": "216 TICONDEROGA A LEGEND OF\\nThen up and spoke the Cameron,\\nAnd gave him his hand again:\\nThere shall never a man in Scotland\\nSet faith in me in vain;\\nAnd whatever man you have slaughtered,\\nOf whatever name or line.\\nBy my sword and yonder mountain,\\nI make your quarrel mine.^\\nI bid you in to my fireside,\\nI share with you house and hall; 70\\nIt stands upon my honour\\nTo see you safe from all.\\nIt fell in the time of midnight.\\nWhen the fox barked in the den\\nAnd the plaids were over the faces\\nIn all the houses of men.\\nThat as the living Cameron\\nLay sleepless on his bed.\\nOut of the night and the other world,\\nCame in to him the dead. 80\\nMy blood is on the heather.\\nMy bones are on the hill;", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0252.jp2"}, "251": {"fulltext": "THE WEST HIGHLANDS. 217\\nThere is joy in the home of ravens\\nThat the young shall eat their fill.\\nMy blood is poured in the dust,\\nMy soul is spilled in the air;\\nAnd the man that has undone me\\nSleeps in my brother s care.\\nI m wae for your death, my brother,\\nBut if all of my house were dead, 90\\nI couldnae withdraw the plighted hand,\\nNor break the word once said.\\nO, what shall I say to our father,\\nIn the place to which I fare?\\nO, what shall I say to our mother,\\nWho greets to see me there?\\nAnd to all the kindly Camerons\\nThat have lived and died long-syne\\nIs this the word you send them,\\nFause-hearted brother mine? 100\\nIt s neither fear nor duty,\\nIt s neither quick nor dead\\nShall gar me withdraw the plighted hand,\\nOr break the word once said.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0253.jp2"}, "252": {"fulltext": "218 TICONDEROGA A LEGEND OF\\nThrice in the time of midnight,\\nWhen the fox barked in the den,\\nAnd the plaids were over the faces\\nIn all the houses of men,\\nThrice as the living Cameron\\nLay sleepless on his bed,\\nOut of the night and the other world\\nCame in to him the dead,\\nAnd cried to him for vengeance\\nOn the man that laid him low;\\nAnd thrice the living Cameron\\nTold the dead Cameron, no.\\nThrice have you seen me, brother,\\nBut now shall see me no more.\\nTill you meet your angry fathers\\nUpon the farther shore.\\nThrice have I spoken, and now,\\nBefore the cock be heard,\\nI take my leave for ever\\nWith the naming of a word.\\nIt shall sing in your sleeping ears,\\nIt shall hum in your waking head,", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0254.jp2"}, "253": {"fulltext": "THE IVFST HIGHLANDS. 219\\nThe name Ticonderoga,\\nAnd the warnins: of the dead.\\nNow when the night was over\\nAnd the time of people s fears, 130\\nThe Cameron walked abroad,\\nAnd the word was in his ears.\\nMany a name I know,\\nBut never a name like this;\\nO, where shall I find a skilly man\\nShall tell me what it is?\\nWith many a man he counselled\\nOf high and low degree,\\nWith the herdsmen on the mountains\\nAnd the fishers of the sea. 140\\nAnd he came and went unweary,\\nAnd read the books of yore,\\nAnd the runes that were written of old\\nOn stones upon the moor.\\nAnd many a name he was told.\\nBut never the name of his fears\\nNever, in east or west,\\nThe name that rang in his ears:", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0255.jp2"}, "254": {"fulltext": "220 TICONDEROGA A LEGEND OF\\nNames of men and of clans,\\nNames for the grass and the tree, 150\\nFor the smallest tarn in the mountains.\\nThe smallest reef in the sea:\\nNames for the high and low,\\nThe names of the craig and the flat;\\nBut in all the land of Scotland,\\nNever a name like that.\\nII. THE SEEKING OF THE NAME.\\nAnd now there was speech in the south.\\nAnd a man of the south that was wise,\\nA periwig d lord of London,\\nCalled on the clans to rise. 160\\nAnd the riders rode, and the summons\\nCame to the western shore,\\nTo the land of the sea and the heather.\\nTo Appin and Mamo^e.\\nIt called on all to gather\\nFrom every scrog and scaur.\\nThat loved their fathers tartan\\nAnd the ancient game of war.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0256.jp2"}, "255": {"fulltext": "THE IVEST HIGHLANDS. 221\\nAnd down the watery valley\\nAnd up the windy hill,\\nOnce more, as in the olden.\\nThe pipes were sounding shrill;\\nAgain in highland sunshine\\nThe naked steel was bright;\\nAnd the lads, once more in tartan,\\nWent forth again to fight.\\nO, why should I dwell here\\nWith a weird upon my life,\\nWhen the clansmen shout for battle\\nAnd the war-swords clash in strife? i8o\\nI cannae joy at feast,\\nI cannae sleep in bed.\\nFor the \\\\vonder of the word\\nAnd the warning of the dead.\\nIt sings in my sleeping ears.\\nIt hums in my waking head,\\nThe name Ticonderoga,\\nThe utterance of the dead.\\nThen up, and with the fighting men\\nTo march away from here, 190", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0257.jp2"}, "256": {"fulltext": "222 TICONDEROGA A LEGEND OF\\nTill the cry of the great war-pipe\\nShall drown it in my ear!\\nWhere flew King George s ensign\\nThe plaided soldiers went:\\nThey drew the sword in Germany,\\nIn Flanders pitched the tent.\\nThe bells of foreign cities\\nRang far across the plain:\\nThey passed the happy Rhine,\\nThey drank the rapid Main. 200\\nThrough Asiatic jungles\\nThe Tartans filed their way,\\nAnd the neighing of the war-pipes\\nStruck terror in Cathay.^\\nMany a name have I heard, he thought,\\nIn all the tongues of men,\\nFull many a name both here and there,\\nFull many both now and then.\\nWhen I was at home in my father s house\\nIn the land of the naked knee, 210\\nBetween the eagles that fly in the lift\\nAnd the herrings that swim in the sea,", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0258.jp2"}, "257": {"fulltext": "THE IV EST HIGHLANDS. 223\\nAnd now that I am a captain-man\\nWith a braw cockade in my hat\\nMany a name have I heard, he thought,\\nBut never a name like that.\\nIII. THE PLACE OF THE NAME.\\nThere fell a war in a woody place,\\nLay far across the sea,\\nA war of the march in the mirk midnight\\nAnd the shot from behind the tree, 220\\nThe shaven head and the painted face.\\nThe silent foot in the wood,\\nIn a land of a strange, outlandish tongue\\nThat was hard to be understood.\\nIt fell about the gloaming\\nThe general stood with his staff.\\nHe stood and he looked east and west\\nWith little mind to laugh.\\nFar have I been and much have I seen,\\nAnd kent both gain and loss, 230\\nBut here we have woods on every hand\\nAnd a kittle water to cross.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0259.jp2"}, "258": {"fulltext": "224 TICONDEROG/I A LEGEND OF\\nFar have I been and much have I seen,\\nBut never the beat of this;\\nAnd there s one must go down to that waterside\\nTo see how deep it is.\\nIt fell in the dusk of the night\\nWhen unco things betide,\\nThe skilly captain, the Cameron,\\nWent down to that waterside. 240\\nCanny and soft the captain went;\\nAnd a man of the woody land,\\nWith the shaven head and the painted face,\\nWent down at his right hand.\\nIt fell in the quiet night.\\nThere was never a sound to ken;\\nBut all of the woods to the right and the left\\nLay filled with the painted men.\\nFar have I been and much have I seen,\\nBoth as a man and boy, 25c\\nBut never have I set forth a foot\\nOn so perilous an employ.\\nIt fell in the dusk of the night\\nWhen unco thinsjs betide,", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0260.jp2"}, "259": {"fulltext": "THE IVEST HIGHLANDS. 225\\nThat he was aware of a captain-man\\nDrew near to the waterside.\\nHe was aware of his coming\\nDown in the gloaming alone;\\nAnd he looked in the face of the man\\nAnd lo the face was his own. 260\\nThis is my weird, he said,\\nAnd now I ken the worst;\\nFor many shall fall the morn,\\nBut I shall fall with the first.\\nO, you of the outland tongue,\\nYou of the painted face.\\nThis is the place of my death;\\nCan you tell me the name of the place?\\nSince the Frenchmen have been here\\nThey have called it Sault-Marie;\\nBut that is a name for priests.\\nAnd not for you and me.\\nIt went by another word,\\nQuoth he of the shaven head:\\nIt was called Ticonderoga\\nIn the days of the great dead.\\n270", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0261.jp2"}, "260": {"fulltext": "226 TICONDEROGA A LEGEND.\\nAnd it fell on the morrow s morning,\\nIn the fiercest of the fight,\\nThat the Cameron bit the dust\\nAs he foretold at night; aSc\\nAnd far from the hills of heather.\\nFar from the isles of the sea,\\nHe sleeps in the place of the name\\nAs it was doomed to be.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0262.jp2"}, "261": {"fulltext": "NOTES TO TICONDEROGA.\\nIntroduction. I first heard this legend of my own\\ncountry from that friend of men of letters, Mr. Alfred Nutt,\\nthere in roaring London s central stream and since the\\nballad first saw the light of day in Scribner s Magazijie,\\nMr. Nutt and Lord Archibald Campbell have been in pubHc\\ncontroversy on the facts. Two clans, the Camerons and\\nthe Campbells, lay claim to this bracing story; and they\\ndo well the man who preferred his plighted troth to the\\ncommands and menaces of the dead is an ancestor worth\\ndisputing. But the Campbells must rest content they\\nhave the broad lands and the broad page of history; this\\nappanage must be denied them; for between the name of\\nCameron and that of Campbell, the muse will never hesi-\\ntate.\\nNote I, verse 68. Mr, Nutt reminds me it was by my\\nsword and Ben Cruachan the Cameron swore.\\nNote 2, verse 159. M periwig d lord of London^\\nThe first Pitt.\\nNote 3, verse 204. Cathay. There must be some\\nomission in General Stewart s charming History of the\\nHighland Regiments, a book that might well be repub-\\nlished and continued; or it scarce appears how our friend\\ncould have got to China.\\n227", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0263.jp2"}, "262": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0264.jp2"}, "263": {"fulltext": "HEATHER ALE.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0265.jp2"}, "264": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0266.jp2"}, "265": {"fulltext": "HEATHER ALE: A GALLOWAV\\nLEGEND.\\nFrom the bonny bells of heather\\nThey brewed a drink long-syne,\\nWas sweeter far than honey,\\nWas stronger far than wine.\\nThey brewed it and they drank it.\\nAnd lay in a blessed swound\\nFor days and days together\\nIn their dwellings underground.\\nThere rose a king in Scotland,\\nA fell man to his foes,\\nHe smote the Picts in battle.\\nHe hunted them like roes.\\nOver miles of the red mountain\\nHe hunted as they fled.\\nAnd strewed the dwarfish bodies\\nOf the dying and the dead.\\n231", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0267.jp2"}, "266": {"fulltext": "232 HEATHER ALE:\\nSummer came in the country,\\nRed was the heather bell;\\nBut the manner of the brewing\\nWas none alive to tell. 20\\nIn graves that were like children s\\nOn many a mountain head,\\nThe Brewsters of the Heather\\nLay numbered with the dead.\\nThe king in the red moorland\\nRode on a summer s day;\\nAnd the bees hummed, and the curlews\\nCried beside the way.\\nThe king rode, and was angry,\\nBlack was his brow and pale, 30\\nTo rule in a land of heather\\nAnd lack the Heather Ale.\\nIt fortuned that his vassals,\\nRiding free on the heath.\\nCame on a stone that was fallen\\nAnd vermin hid beneath.\\nRudely plucked from their hiding.\\nNever a word they spoke:", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0268.jp2"}, "267": {"fulltext": "A G ALLOW AY LEGEND. 233\\nA son and his aged father\\nLast of the dwarfish folk. 40\\nThe king sat high on his charger,\\nHe looked on the little men;\\nAnd the dwarfish and swarthy couple\\nLooked at the king again.\\nDown by the shore he had them;\\nAnd there on the giddy brink\\nI will give you life, ye vermin,\\nFor the secret of the drink.\\nThere stood the son and father\\nAnd they looked high and low; 50\\nThe heather was red around them,\\nThe sea rumbled below.\\nAnd up and spoke the father,\\nShrill was his voice to hear:\\nI have a word in private,\\nA word for the royal ear.\\nLife is dear to the aged.\\nAnd honour a little thing;\\nI would gladly sell the secret,\\nQuoth the Pict to the King. 60", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0269.jp2"}, "268": {"fulltext": "234 HEATHER ALE:\\nHis voice was small as a sparrow s,\\nAnd shrill and wonderful clear:\\nI would gladly sell my secret,\\nOnly my son I fear.\\nFor life is a little matter,\\nAnd death is naught to the young;\\nAnd I dare not sell my honour\\nUnder the eye of my son.\\nTake hi in, O king, and bind him,\\nAnd cast him far in the deep; 70\\nAnd it s I will tell the secret\\nThat I have sworn to keep.\\nThey took the son and bound him.\\nNeck and heels in a thong.\\nAnd a lad took him and swung him.\\nAnd flung him far and strong,\\nAnd the sea swallowed his body.\\nLike that of a child of ten;\\nAnd tliere on the cliff stood the father.\\nLast of the dwarfish men. 80\\nTrue was the word I told you:\\nOnly my son I feared;", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0270.jp2"}, "269": {"fulltext": "A GALLOWAY LEGEND. 235\\nFor I doubt the sapling courage\\nThat goes without the beard.\\nBut now in vain is the torture,\\nFire shall never avail\\nHere dies in my bosom\\nThe secret of Heather Ale.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0271.jp2"}, "270": {"fulltext": "NOTE TO HEATHER ALE.\\nAmong the curiosities of human nature, this legend\\nclaims a high place. It is needless to remind the reader\\nthat the Picts were never exterminated, and form to this\\nday a large proportion of the folk of Scotland occupying\\nthe eastern and the central parts, from the Firth of Forth,\\nor perhaps the Lammermoors, upon the south, to the Ord\\nof Caithness on the north. That the blundering guess of a\\ndull chronicler should have inspired men with imaginary\\nloathing for their own ancestors is already strange that it\\nshould have begotten this wild legend seems incredible.\\nIs it possible the chronicler s error was merely nominal?\\nthat what he told, and what the people proved themselves\\nso ready to receive, about the Picts, was true or partly true\\nof some anterior and perhaps Lappish savages, small of\\nstature, black of hue, dwelling underground possibly also\\nthe distillers of some forgotten spirit See Mr. Camp-\\nbell s Tales of the West Highlands.\\n236", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0272.jp2"}, "271": {"fulltext": "CHRISTMAS AT SEA.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0273.jp2"}, "272": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0274.jp2"}, "273": {"fulltext": "CHRISTMAS AT SEA.\\nThe sheets were frozen hard, and they cut the\\nnaked hand;\\nThe decks were like a slide, where a seaman\\nscarce could stand;\\nThe wind was a nor wester, blowing squally off\\nthe sea;\\nAnd cliffs and spouting breakers were the only\\nthings a-lee.\\nThey heard the surf a-roaring before the break\\nof day;\\nBut twas only with the peep of light we saw\\nhow ill we lay.\\nWe tumbled every hand on deck instanter, with\\na shout.\\nAnd we gave her the maintops 1, and stood by\\nto go about.\\nAll day we tacked and tacked between the\\nSouth Head and the North;\\n239", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0275.jp2"}, "274": {"fulltext": "240 CHRISTMAS AT SEA.\\nAll day we hauled the frozen sheets, and got no\\nfurther forth; lo\\nAll day as cold as charity, in bitter pain and\\ndread.\\nFor very life and nature we tacked from head\\nto head.\\nWe gave the South a wider berth, for there the\\ntide-race roared;\\nBut every tack we made we brought the North\\nHead close aboard:\\nSo s we saw cliffs and houses, and the breakers\\nrunning high.\\nAnd the coastguard in his garden, with his\\nglass against his eye.\\nThe frost was on the village roofs as white as\\nocean foam;\\nThe good red fires were burning bright in every\\nlongshore home;\\nThe windows sparkled clear, and the chimneys\\nvolleyed out;\\nAnd I vow we sniffed the victuals as the vessel\\nwent about. 20", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0276.jp2"}, "275": {"fulltext": "CHRISTMAS AT SEA. 241\\nThe bells upon the church were rung with a\\nmighty jovial cheer;\\nFor it s just that I should tell you how (of all\\ndays in the year)\\nThis day of our adversity was blessed Christ-\\nmas morn,\\nAnd the house above the coastguard s was the\\nhouse where I was born.\\nO well I saw the pleasant room, the pleasant\\nfaces there,\\n_My mother s silver spectacles, my father s silver\\nhair;\\nAnd well I saw the firelight, like a flight of\\nhomely elves.\\nGo dancing round the china-plates that stand\\nupon the shelves.\\nAnd well 1 knew the talk they had, the talk\\nthat was of me.\\nOf the shadow on the household and the son\\nthat went to sea;\\nAnd the wicked fool I seemed, in every kind\\nof way,", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0277.jp2"}, "276": {"fulltext": "242 CHRISTMAS AT SEA.\\nTo be here and hauling frozen ropes on blessed\\nChristmas Day.\\nThey lit the high sea-light, and the dark began\\nto fall.\\nAll hands to loose topgallant sails, I heard\\nthe captain call.\\nBy the Lord, she ll never stand it, our first\\nmate, Jackson, cried.\\nIt s the one way or the other, Mr,\\nJackson, he replied.\\nShe staggered to her bearings, but the sails\\nwere new and good.\\nAnd the ship smelt up to windward just as\\nthough she understood.\\nAs the winter s day was ending, in the entry\\nof the night.\\nWe cleared the weary headland, and passed\\nbelow the light. 40\\nAnd they heaved a mighty breath, every soul\\non board but me,", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0278.jp2"}, "277": {"fulltext": "CHRISTMAS AT SEA. 243\\nAs they saw her nose again pointing handsome\\nout to sea;\\nBut all that I could think of, in the darkness\\nand the cold,\\nWas just that I was leaving home and my folks\\nwere growing old.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0279.jp2"}, "278": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0280.jp2"}, "279": {"fulltext": "UNDERWOODS.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0281.jp2"}, "280": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0282.jp2"}, "281": {"fulltext": "DEDICATION.\\nThere are men and classes of men that\\nstand above the common herd: the soldier,\\nthe sailor, and the shepherd not infrequently;\\nthe artist rarely; rarelier still, the clergyman; the\\nphysician almost as a rule. He is the flower\\n(such as it is) of our civilization; and when\\nthat stage of man is done with, and only re-\\nmembered to be marvelled at in history, he\\nwill be thought to have shared as little as any\\nin the defects of the period, and most notably\\nexhibited the virtues of the race. Generosity\\nhe has, such as is possible to those who prac-\\ntise an art, never to those who drive a trade;\\ndiscretion, tested by a hundred secrets; tact,\\ntried in a thousand embarrassments; and what\\nare more important, Heraclean cheerfulness\\nand courage. So it is that he brings air and\\ncheer into the sickroom, and often enough,\\nthough not so often as he wishes, brings\\nhealing.\\n247", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0283.jp2"}, "282": {"fulltext": "248 DEDICATION.\\nGratitude is but a lame sentiment; thanks,\\nwhen they are expressed, are often more em-\\nbarrassing than welcome and yet I must set\\nforth mine to a few out of many doctors who\\nhave brought me comfort and help to Dr.\\nWilley of San Francisco, whose kindness to a\\nstranger it must be as grateful to him, as it is\\ntouching to me, to remember; to Dr. Karl\\nRuedi of Davos, the good genius of the English\\nin his frosty mountains; to Dr. Herbert of\\nParis, whom I knew only for a week; and to\\nDr. Caissot of Montpellier, whom I knew only\\nfor ten days, and who have yet written their\\nnames deeply in my memory; to Dr. Brandt of\\nRoyat; to Dr. Wakefield of Nice; to Dr. Chep-\\nmell, whose visits make it a pleasure to be ill;\\nto Dr. Horace Dobell, so wise in counsel; to\\nSir Andrew Clark, so unwearied in kindness;\\nand to that wise youth, my uncle, Dr. Balfour.\\nI forget as many as I remember; and I ask\\nboth to pardon me, these for silence, those for\\ninadequate speech. But one name 1 have kept\\non purpose to the last, because it is a house-\\nhold word with me, and because if I had not", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0284.jp2"}, "283": {"fulltext": "DEDICATION. 249\\nreceived favours from so many hands and in\\nso many quarters of the world, it should have\\nstood upon this page alone: that of my friend\\nThomas Bodley Scott of Bournemouth. Will\\nhe accept this, although shared among so many,\\nfor a dedication to himself? and when next my\\nill-fortune (which has thus its pleasant side)\\nbrings him hurrying to me when he would fain\\nsit down to meat or lie down to rest, will he\\ncare to remember that he takes this trouble for\\none who is not fool enough to be ungrateful?\\nR. L. S.\\nSkerryvore,\\nBournemouth.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0285.jp2"}, "284": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0286.jp2"}, "285": {"fulltext": "NOTE.\\nThe human conscience has fled of late the\\ntroublesome domain of conduct for what I\\nshould have supposed to be the less congenial\\nfield of art: there she may now be said to\\nrage, and with special severity in all that\\ntouches dialect; so that in every novel the\\nletters of the alphabet are tortured, and the\\nreader wearied, to commemorate shades of\\nmispronunciation. Now, spelling is an art of\\ngreat difficulty in my eyes, and I am inclined\\nto lean upon the printer, even in common\\npractice, rather than to venture abroad upon\\nnew quests. And the Scots tongue has an or-\\nthography of its own, lacking neither authority\\nnor author. Yet the temptation is great to\\nlend a little guidance to the bewildered Eng-\\nlishman. Some simple phonetic artifice might\\ndefend your verses from barbarous mishandling,\\nand yet not injure any vested interest. So it\\n251", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0287.jp2"}, "286": {"fulltext": "252 NOTE.\\nseems at first; but there are rocks ahead.\\nThus, if I wish the diphthong oir to have its\\nproper value, I may write oor instead of otn-\\nmany have done so and lived, and the pillars\\nof the universe remained unshaken. But if I\\ndid so, and came presently to dou7i, which is\\nthe classical Scots spelling of the English\\ndown, I should begin to feel uneasy; and if I\\nwent on a little further, and came to a clas-\\nsical Scots word, like stour or dour or clou7 I\\nshould know precisely where I was that is to\\nsay, that I was out of sight of land on those\\nhigh seas of spelling reform in which so many\\nstrong swimmers have toiled vainly. To some\\nthe situation is exhilarating; as for me, I give\\none bubbling cry and sink. The compromise\\nat which I have arrived is indefensible, and I\\nhave no thought of trying to defend it. As I\\nhave stuck for the most part to the proper spell-\\ning, I append a table of some common vowel\\nsounds which no one need consult; and just to\\nprove that I belong to my age and have in me\\nthe stuff of a reformer, I have used modifica-\\ntion marks throughout. Thus I can tell myself,", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0288.jp2"}, "287": {"fulltext": "NOTE. 253\\nnot without pride, that I have added a fresh\\nstumbling-block for English readers, and to a\\npage, of print in my native tongue have lent a\\nnew uncouthness. Sed non nobis.\\nI note again, that among our new dialec-\\nticians, the local habitat of every dialect is\\ngiven to the square mile. I could not emulate\\nthis nicety if I desired; for I simply wrote my\\nScots as well as I was able, not caring if it\\nhailed from Lauderdale or Angus, from the\\nMearns or Galloway; if I had ever heard a\\ngood word, I used it without shame; and when\\nScots was lacking, or the rhyme jibbed, I was\\nglad (like my betters) to fall back on English.\\nFor all that, I own to a friendly feeling for the\\ntongue of Fergusson and of Sir Walter, both\\nEdinburgh men; and I confess that Burns has\\nalways sounded in my ear like something partly\\nforeign. And indeed I am from the Lothians\\nmyself; it is there I heard the language spoken\\nabout my childhood; and it is in the drawling\\nLothian voice that I repeat it to myself. Let\\nthe precisians call my speech that of the\\nLothians. And if it be not pure, alas! what", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0289.jp2"}, "288": {"fulltext": "254 NOTE.\\nmatters it? The day draws near when this il-\\nlustrious and malleable tongue shall be quite\\nforgotten; and Burns s Ayrshire, and Dr. Mac-\\ndonald s Aberdeen-awa and Scott s brave,\\nmetropolitan utterance will be all equally the\\nghosts of speech. Till then I would love to\\nhave my hour as a native Maker, and be read\\nby my own countryfolk in our own dying\\nlanguage an ambition surely rather of the\\nheart than of the head, so restricted as it is\\nin prospect of endurance, so parochial in\\nbounds of space.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0290.jp2"}, "289": {"fulltext": "BOOK I.\u00e2\u0080\u0094 IN ENGLISH.\\nENVOY.\\nGo, little book, and wish to all\\nFlowers in the garden, meat in the hall,\\nA bin of wine, a spice of wit,\\nA house with lawns enclosing it,\\nA living river by the door,\\nA nightingale in the sycamore\\n255", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0291.jp2"}, "290": {"fulltext": "II.\\nA SONG OF THE ROAD.\\nThe ganger walked with willing foot,\\nAnd aye the gauger played the flute;\\nAnd what should Master Gauger play\\nBut Over the hills and far away?\\nWhene er I buckle on my pack\\nAnd foot it gayly in the track,\\npleasant gauger, long since dead,\\n1 hear you fluting on ahead.\\nYou go with me the self-same way\\nThe self-same air for me you play;\\nFor I do think and so do you\\nIt is the tune to travel to.\\nFor who would gravely set his face\\nTo go to this or t other place?\\n256", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0292.jp2"}, "291": {"fulltext": "A SONG OF THE ROAD. 257\\nThere s nothing under heav n so blue\\nThat s fairly worth the travelling to.\\nOn every hand the roads begin,\\nAnd people walk with zeal therein;\\nBut wheresoe er the highways tend,\\nBe sure there s nothing at the end.\\nThen follow you, wherever hie\\nThe travelling mountains of the sky.\\nOr let the streams in civil mode\\nDirect your choice upon a road;\\nFor one and all, or high or low,\\nWill lead you where you wish to go;\\nAnd one and all go night and day\\nOi er the hills and far away\\nForest of iMoiitargis, i8y8.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0293.jp2"}, "292": {"fulltext": "III.\\nTHE CANOE SPEAKS.\\nOn the great streams the ships may go\\nAbout men s business to and fro.\\nBut I, the egg-shell pinnace, sleep\\nOn crystal waters ankle-deep\\nI, whose diminutive design,\\nOf sweeter cedar, pithier pine,\\nIs fashioned on so frail a mould,\\nA hand may launch, a hand withhold:\\nI, rather, with the leaping trout\\nWind, among lilies, in and out;\\nI, the unnamed, inviolate.\\nGreen, rustic rivers navigate;\\nMy dipping paddle scarcely shakes\\nThe berry in the bramble-brakes;\\nStill forth on my green way I wend\\nBeside the cottage garden-end;\\nAnd by the nested angler fare.\\nAnd take the lovers unaware.\\n258", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0294.jp2"}, "293": {"fulltext": "THE CANOE SPEAKS. 259\\nBy willow wood and water-wheel\\nSpeedily fleets my touching keel;\\nBy all retired and shady spots\\nWhere prosper dim forget-me-nots;\\nBy meadows where at afternoon\\nThe growing maidens troop in June\\nTo loose their girdles on the grass.\\nAh speedier than before the glass\\nThe backward toilet goes; and swift\\nAs swallows quiver, robe, and shift\\nAnd the rough country stockings lie\\nAround each young divinity.\\nWhen, following the recondite brook,\\nSudden upon this scene I look.\\nAnd light with unfamiliar face\\nOn chaste Diana s bathing-place.\\nLoud ring the hills about and all\\nThe shallows are abandoned.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0295.jp2"}, "294": {"fulltext": "IV.\\nIt is the season now to go\\nAbout the country high and low,\\nAmong the lilacs hand in hand.\\nAnd two by two in fairy land.\\nThe brooding boy, the sighing maid,\\nWholly fain and half afraid,\\nNow meet along the hazel d brook\\nTo pass and linger, pause and look.\\nA year ago, and blithely paired.\\nTheir rough-and-tumble play they shared;\\nThey kissed and quarrelled, laughed and cried,\\nA year ago at Eastertide.\\nWith bursting heart, with fiery face.\\nShe strove against him in the race;\\nHe, unabashed, her garter saw,\\nThat now would touch her skirts with awe.\\n260", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0296.jp2"}, "295": {"fulltext": "IT IS THE SEASON NOIV TO GO. 261\\nNow by the stile ablaze she stops,\\nAnd his demurer eyes he drops;\\nNow they exchange averted sighs\\nOr stand and marry silent eyes.\\nAnd he to her a hero is,\\nAnd sweeter she than primroses;\\nTheir common silence dearer far\\nThan nightingale and mavis are.\\nNow when they sever wedded hands,\\nJoy trembles in their bosom-strands.\\nAnd lovely laughter leaps and falls\\nUpon their lips in madrigals.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0297.jp2"}, "296": {"fulltext": "THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL\\nA naked house, a naked moor,\\nA shivering pool before the door,\\nA garden bare of flowers and fruit,\\nAnd pophirs at the garden foot:\\nSuch is the place that I live in,\\nBleak ivithout and bare tvithin.\\nYet shall your ragged moor receive\\nThe incomparable pomp of eve,\\nAnd the cold glories of the dawn\\nBehind your shivering trees be drawn;\\nAnd when the wind from place to place\\nDoth the unmoored cloud-galleons chase,\\nYour garden gloom and gleam again.\\nWith leaping sun, with glancing rain.\\nHere shall the wizard moon ascend\\nThe heavens, in the crimson end\\n262", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0298.jp2"}, "297": {"fulltext": "THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL 263\\nOf day s declining splendour; here\\nThe army of the stars appear.\\nThe neighbour hollows dry or wet,\\nSpring shall with tender flowers beset;\\nAnd oft the morning muser see\\nLarks rising from the broomy lea,\\nAnd every fairy wheel and thread\\nOf cobweb dew-bediamonded.\\nWhen daisies go, shall winter time\\nSilver the simple grass with rime;\\nAutumnal frosts enchant the pool\\nAnd make the cart-ruts beautiful;\\nAnd when snow-bright the moor expands\\nHow shall your children clap their hands\\nTo make this earth our hermitage,\\nA cheerful and a changeful page,\\nGod s bright and intricate device\\nOf days and seasons doth suffice.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0299.jp2"}, "298": {"fulltext": "VI.\\nA. VISIT FROM THE SEA.\\nFar from the loud sea beaches\\nWhere he goes fishing and crying,\\nHere in the inland garden\\nWhy is the sea-gull flying?\\nHere are no fish to dive for;\\nHere is the corn and lea;\\nHere are the green trees rustling.\\nHie away home to sea!\\nFresh is the river water\\nAnd quiet among the rushes;\\nThis is no home for the sea-gull\\nBut for the rooks and thrushes.\\nPity the bird that has wandered!\\nPity the sailor ashore!\\n264", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0300.jp2"}, "299": {"fulltext": "A VISIT FROM THE SEA. 20,1\\nHurry him home to the ocean,\\nLet him come here no more.\\nHigh on the sea-cliff ledges\\nThe white gulls are trooping and crying,\\nHere among rooks and roses,\\nWhy is the sea-gull flying?", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0301.jp2"}, "300": {"fulltext": "VII.\\nTO A GARDENER.\\nFriend, in my mountain-side demesne,\\nMy plain-beholding, rosy, green\\nAnd linnet-haunted garden-ground.\\nLet still the esculents abound.\\nLet first the onion flourish there.\\nRose among roots, the maiden-fair,\\nWine-scented and poetic soul\\nOf the capacious salad bowl.\\nLet thyme the mountaineer (to dress\\nThe tinier birds) and wading cress,\\nThe lover of the shallow brook.\\nFrom all my plots and borders look.\\nNor crisp and ruddy radish, nor\\nPease-cods for the child s pinafore\\nBe lacking; nor of salad clan\\nThe last and least that ever ran\\nAbout great nature s garden-beds.\\nNor thence be missed the speary heads\\n2GG", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0302.jp2"}, "301": {"fulltext": "The Gardener.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0303.jp2"}, "302": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0304.jp2"}, "303": {"fulltext": "TO A GARDENER. 267\\nOf artichoke: nor thence the bean\\nThat, gathered innocent and green,\\nOutsavours the belauded pea.\\nThese tend, I prithee; and for me.\\nThy most long-suffering master, bring\\nIn April, when the linnets sing\\nAnd the days lengthen more and more\\nAt sundown to the garden door.\\nAnd I, being provided thus.\\nShall, with -superb asparagus,\\nA book, a taper, and a cup\\nOf country wine, divinely sup.\\nLa Solitude, Ilyeres.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0305.jp2"}, "304": {"fulltext": "VIII.\\nTO MINNIE.\\n(With a Hand-Glass.)\\nA PICTURE-FRAME for yOU tO fill,\\nA paltry setting for your facC;\\nA thing that has no worth until\\nYou lend it something of your grace,\\nI send (unhappy I that sing\\nLaid by a while upon the shelf)\\nBecause I would not send a thing\\nLess charming than you are yourself.\\nAnd happier than I, alas\\n(Dumb thing, I envy its delight),\\nTwill wish you well, the looking-glass,\\nAnd look you in the face to-night.\\ni86g.\\n26b", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0306.jp2"}, "305": {"fulltext": "IX.\\nTO K. DE M.\\nA LOVER of the moorland bare\\nAnd honest country winds, you were;\\nThe silver-skimming rain you took;\\nAnd lo\\\\ed the floodings of the brook,\\nDew, frost, and mountains, fire and seas.\\nTumultuary silences.\\nWinds that in darkness fifed a tune,\\nAnd the high-riding, virgin moon.\\nAnd as the berry, pale and sharp,\\nSprings on some ditch s counterscarp\\nIn our ungenial, native north\\nYou put your frosted wildings forth,\\nAnd on the heath, afar from man,\\nA strong and bitter virgin ran.\\nThe berry ripened keeps the rude\\nAnd racy flavour of the wood;\\n209", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0307.jp2"}, "306": {"fulltext": "270 TO K. DE M.\\nAnd you that loved the empty plain\\nAll redolent of wind and rain,\\nAround you still the. curlew sings\\nThe freshness of the weather clings\\nThe maiden jewels of the rain\\nSit in your dabbled locks again.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0308.jp2"}, "307": {"fulltext": "X.\\nTO N. V. DE G. S.\\nThe unfathomable sea, and time, and tears,\\nThe deeds of heroes and the crimes of kings\\nDispart us; and the river of events\\nHas, for an age of years, to east and west\\nMore widely borne our cradles. Thou to me\\nArt foreign, as when seamen at the dawn\\nDescry a land far off and know not which.\\nSo I approach uncertain; so I cruise\\nRound thy mysterious islet, and behold\\nSurf and great mountains and loud river-bars,\\nAnd from the shore hear inland voices call.\\nStrange is the seaman s heart; he hopes, he\\nfears;\\nDraws closer and sweeps wider from that coast;\\nLast, his rent sail refits, and to the deep\\nHis shattered prow uncomforted puts back.\\nYet as he goes he ponders at the helm\\nOf that bright island; where he feared to touch,\\n271", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0309.jp2"}, "308": {"fulltext": "272 TO N. V. DE G. 5.\\nHis spirit re-adventures; and for years,\\nWhere by his wife he slumbers safe at home,\\nThoughts of that land revisit him; he sees\\nThe eternal mountains beckon, and awakes\\nYearning for that far home that might have\\nbeen.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0310.jp2"}, "309": {"fulltext": "XI.\\nTO WILL. H. LOW.\\nYouth now flees on feathered foot\\nFaint and fainter sounds the flute,\\nRarer songs of gods; and still\\nSomewhere on the sunny hill,\\nOr along the winding stream.\\nThrough the willows, flits a dream;\\nFlits, but shows a smiling face.\\nFlees, but with so quaint a grace.\\nNone can choose to stay at home.\\nAll must follow, all must roam.\\nThis is unborn beauty: she\\nNow in air floats high and free.\\nTakes the sun and breaks the blue;\\nLate with stooping pinion flew\\nRaking hedgerow trees, and wet\\nHer wing in silver streams, and set\\nShining foot on temple roof:\\nNow again she flies aloof,\\n273", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0311.jp2"}, "310": {"fulltext": "274 TO IVILL H. LOIV.\\nCoasting mountain clouds and kiss t\\nBy the evening s amethyst.\\nIn wet wood and miry lane,\\nStill we pant and pound in vain;\\nStill with leaden foot we chase\\nWaning pinion, fainting face;\\nStill with gray hair we stumble on,\\nTill, behold, the vision gone\\nWhere hath fleeting beauty led?\\nTo the doorway of the dead.\\nLife is over, life was gay:\\nWe have come the primrose way.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0312.jp2"}, "311": {"fulltext": "XIL\\nTO MRS. WILL. H. LOW.\\nEven in the bluest noonday of July,\\nThere could not run the smallest breath of\\nwind\\nBut all the quarter sounded like a wood;\\nAnd in the checkered silence and above\\nThe hum of city cabs that sought the Bois,\\nSuburban ashes shivered into song.\\nA patter and a chatter and a chirp\\nAnd a long-dying hiss it was as though\\nStarched old brocaded dames through all the\\nhouse\\nHad trailed a strident skirt, or the whole sky\\nEven in a wink had over-brimmed in rain.\\nHark, in these shady parlours, how it talks\\nOf the near autumn, how the smitten ash\\nTrembles and augurs floods O not too long\\nIn these inconstant latitudes delay,\\n275", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0313.jp2"}, "312": {"fulltext": "276 TO MRS. IVILL H. LOIV\\nO not too late from the unbeloved north\\nTrim your escape For soon shall this low\\nroof\\nResound indeed with rain, soon shall your\\neyes\\nSearch the foul garden, search the darkened\\nrooms,\\nNor find one jewel but the blazing log.\\n12 Rue Vernier. Paris.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0314.jp2"}, "313": {"fulltext": "XIII.\\nTO H. F. BROWN.\\n(Written during a Dangerous Sickness.)\\nI SIT and wait a pair of oars\\nOn cis-Elysian river-shores.\\nWhere the immortal dead have sate,\\nTis mine to sit and meditate;\\nTo re-ascend life s rivulet,\\nWithout remorse, without regret;\\nAnd sing my Alma Genetrix\\nAmong the willows of the Styx.\\nAnd lo, as my serener soul\\nDid these unhappy shores patrol,\\nAnd wait with an attentive ear\\nThe coming of the gondolier.\\nYour fire-surviving roll I took.\\nYour spirited and happy book;*\\nLife on the Lagoons, by H. F. Brown, originally burned\\nin the fire at Messrs. Kegan Paul, Trench Co. s.\\n277", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0315.jp2"}, "314": {"fulltext": "278 TO H. F. BROJVN.\\nWhereon, despite my frowning fate,\\nIt did my soul so recreate\\nThat all my fancies fled away\\nOn a Venetian holiday.\\nNow, thanks to your triumphant care,\\nYour pages clear as April air,\\nThe sails, the bells, the birds, I know,\\nAnd the far-off Friulan snow;\\nThe land and sea, the sun and shade,\\nAnd the blue even, lamp-inlaid.\\nFor this, for these, for all, O friend,\\nFor your whole book from end to end-\\nFor Paron Picro s muttonham\\nI your defaulting debtor am.\\nPerchance, reviving, yet may I\\nTo your sea-paven city hie.\\nAnd in a felze, some day yet\\nLight at your pipe my cigarette.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0316.jp2"}, "315": {"fulltext": "XIV.\\nTO ANDREW LANG.\\nDear Andrew, with the brindled hair,\\nWho glory to have thrown in air.\\nHigh over arm, the trembling reed.\\nBy Ale and Kail, by Till and Tweed;\\nAn equal craft of hand you show\\nThe pen to guide, the fiy to throw:\\nI count you happy starred; for God,\\nWhen He with inkpot and with rod\\nEndowed you, bade your fortune lead\\nForever by the crooks of Tweed,\\nForever by the woods of song\\nAnd lands that to the Muse belong;\\nOr if in peopled streets, or in\\nThe abhorred pedantic sanhedrim.\\nIt should be yours to wander, still\\nAirs of the morn, airs of the hill,\\nThe plovery Forest and the seas\\nThat break about the Hebrides,\\n279", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0317.jp2"}, "316": {"fulltext": "280 TO ANDREIV LANG.\\nShould follow over field and plain\\nAnd find you at the window-pane;\\nAnd you again see hill and peel,\\nAnd the bright springs gush at your heel.\\nSo went the fiat forth, and so\\nGarrulous like a brook you go.\\nWith sound of happy mirth and sheen\\nOf daylight whether by the green\\nYou fare that moment, or the gray;\\nWhether you dwell in March or May;\\nOr whether treat of reels and rods\\nOr of the old unhappy gods:\\nStill like a brook your page has shone,\\nAnd your ink sings of Helicon.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0318.jp2"}, "317": {"fulltext": "XV.\\nET TU IN ARCADIA VIXISTI.\\n(TO R. A, M. S.)\\nIn ancient tales, O friend, thy spirit dwelt;\\nThere, from of old, thy childhood passed and\\nthere\\nHigh expectation, high delights and deeds,\\nThy fluttering heart with hope and terror\\nmoved.\\nAnd thou hast heard of yore the Blatant Beast,\\nAnd Roland s horn, and that war-scattering\\nshout\\nOf all-unarmed Achilles, segis-crowned.\\nAnd perilous lands thou sawest, sounding\\nshores\\nAnd seas and forests drear, island and dale\\nAnd mountain dark. For thou with Tristram\\nrod st\\nOr Bedevere, in farthest Lyonesse\\n281", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0319.jp2"}, "318": {"fulltext": "282 ET TU IN ARCADIA VIXISTI.\\nThou hadst a booth in Samarcand, whereat\\nSide-looking Magians trafficked; thence, by\\nnight,\\nAn Afreet snatched thee, and with wings upbore\\nBeyond the Aral mount; or hoping gain,\\nThou, with a jar of money didst embark\\nFor Balsorah, by sea. But chiefly thou\\nIn that clear air took st life; in Arcady\\nThe haunted, land of song; and by the wells\\nWhere most the gods frequent. There Chiron\\nold.\\nIn the Pelethronian antre, taught thee lore:\\nThe plants, he taught, and by the shining stars\\nIn forests dim to steer. There hast thou seen\\nImmortal Pan dance secret in a glade,\\nAnd, dancing, roll his eyes; these where they\\nfell.\\nShed glee, and through the congregated oaks\\nA flying horror winged; while all the earth\\nTo the god s pregnant footing thrilled within.\\nOr whiles, beside the sobbing stream, he\\nbreathed.\\nIn his clutched pipe unformed and wizard\\nstrains", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0320.jp2"}, "319": {"fulltext": "ET TU IN ARCADIA VI X 1ST I. 283\\nDivine yet brutal; which the forest heard,\\nAnd thou, with awe; and far upon the plain\\nThe unthinking ploughman started and gave\\near.\\nNow things there are that, upon him who sees,\\nA strong vocation lay; and strains there are\\nThat whoso hears shall hear for evermore.\\nFor evermore thou hear st a mortal Pan\\nAnd those melodious godheads, ever young\\nAnd ever quiring on the mountains old.\\nWhat was this earth, child of the gods, to\\nthee?\\nForth from thy dreamland thou, a dreamer\\ncam st\\nAnd in thine ears the olden music rang.\\nAnd in thy mind the doings of the dead,\\nAnd those heroic ages long forgot.\\nTo a so fallen earth, alas! too late,\\nAlas in evil days, thy steps return.\\nTo list at noon for nightingales, to grow\\nA dweller on the beach till Argo come\\nThat came long since, a lingerer by the pool\\nWhere that desired angel bathes no more.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0321.jp2"}, "320": {"fulltext": "284 ET TU IN /I RCA DM ^IXISTI.\\nAs when the Indian to Dakota comes\\nOr farthest Idaho, and where he dwelt,\\nHe with his clan, a humming city finds;\\nThereon a while, amazed, he stares, and then\\nTo right and leftward, like a questing dog,\\nSeeks first the ancestral altars, then the hearth\\nLong cold with rains, and where old terror\\nlodged.\\nAnd where the dead. So thee undying Hope,\\nWith all her pack, hunts screaming through the\\nyears\\nHere, there, thou fleest; but nor here nor there\\nThe pleasant gods abide, the glory dwells.\\nThat, that was not Apollo, not the god.\\nThis was not Venus, though she Venus seemed\\nA moment. And though fair yon river move,\\nShe, all the way from disenchanted fount\\nTo seas unhallowed runs; the gods forsook\\nLong since her trembling rushes; from her\\nplains\\nDisconsolate, long since adventure fled;\\nAnd now although the inviting river flows\\nAnd every poplared cape and every bend", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0322.jp2"}, "321": {"fulltext": "ET TU IN ARCADIA yiXISTI. 285\\nOr willowy islet, win upon thy soul\\nAnd to thy hopeful shallop whisper speed;\\nVet hope not thou at all; hope is no more;\\nAnd O, long since the golden groves are dead\\nThe faery cities vanished from the land!", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0323.jp2"}, "322": {"fulltext": "XVI.\\nTO W. E. HENLEY.\\nThe year runs through her phases; rain and\\nsun\\nSpringtime and summer pass; winter succeeds;\\nBut one pale season rules the house of death.\\nCold falls the imprisoned daylight; fell disease\\nBy each lean pallet squats, and pain and sleep\\nToss gaping on the pillows.\\nBut O thou!\\nUprise and take thy pipe. Bid music flow,\\nStrains by good thoughts attended, like the\\nspring\\nThe swallows follow over land and sea.\\nPain sleeps at once; at once, with open eyes,\\nDozing despair awakes. The shepherd sees\\nHis flock come bleating home; the seaman\\nhears\\nOnce more the cordage rattle. Airs of home\\n286", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0324.jp2"}, "323": {"fulltext": "TO IV. E. HENLEY. 287\\nYouth, love, and roses blossom the gaunt ward\\nDislimns and disappears, and, opening out,\\nShows brooks and forests, and the blue beyond\\nOf mountains.\\nSmall the pipe; but oh! do thou.\\nPeak-faced and suffering piper, blow therein\\nThe dirge of heroes dead; and to these sick.\\nThese dying, sound the triumph over death.\\nBehold! each greatly breathes; each tastes a\\njoy\\nUnknown before, in dying; for each knows\\nA hero dies with him though unfulfilled,\\nYet conquering truly and not dies in vain.\\nSo is pain cheered, death comforted; the house\\nOf sorrow smiles to listen. Once again\\nO thou, Orpheus and Heracles, the bard\\n[Vnd the deliverer, touch the stops again!", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0325.jp2"}, "324": {"fulltext": "XVII.\\nHENRY JAMES.\\nWho comes to-night? We ope the doors in\\nvain.\\nWho comes? My bursting walls, can you con-\\ntain\\nThe presences that now together throng\\nYour narrow entry, as with flowers and song,\\nAs with the air of life, the breath of talk?\\nLo, how these fair immaculate women walk\\nBehind their jocund maker; and we see\\nSlighted De Maurcs, and that far different she,\\nGressie, the trivial sphynx; and to our feast\\nDaisy and Ba^-b and Chancellor (she not least\\nWith all their silken, all their airy kin.\\nDo like unbidden angels enter in.\\nBut he, attended by these shining names,\\nComes (best of all) himself our welcome\\nJames.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0326.jp2"}, "325": {"fulltext": "XVIII.\\nTHE MIRROR SPEAKS,\\nWhere the bells peal far at sea\\nCunning fingers fashioned me.\\nThere on palace walls I hung\\nWhile that Consuelo sung;\\nBut I heard, though I listened well,\\nNever a note, never a trill,\\nNever a beat of the chiming bell.\\nThere I hung and looked, and there\\nIn my gray face, faces fair\\nShone from under shining hair.\\nWell I saw the poising head.\\nBut the lips moved and nothing said\\nAnd- when lights were in the hall.\\nSilent moved the dancers all.\\nSo a while I glowed, and then\\nFell on dusty days and men;\\n289", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0327.jp2"}, "326": {"fulltext": "290 THE MIRROR SPEAKS.\\nLong I slumbered packed in straw,\\nLong I none but dealers saw;\\nTill before my silent eye\\nOne that sees came passing by.\\nNow with an outlandish grace,\\nTo the sparkling fire I face\\nIn the blue room at Skerry vore;\\nWhere I wait until the door\\nOpen, and the Prince of Men,\\nHenry James, shall come again.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0328.jp2"}, "327": {"fulltext": "XIX.\\nKATHARINE.\\nWe see you as we see a face\\nThat trembles in a forest place\\nUpon the mirror of a pool\\nForever quiet, clear, and cool;\\nAnd in the wayward glass appears\\nTo hover between smiles and tears,\\nElfin and human, airy and true,\\nAnd backed by the reflected blue.\\n291", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0329.jp2"}, "328": {"fulltext": "XX\\nTO F. J. S.\\nI READ, dear friend, in your dear face\\nYour life s tale told with perfect grace;\\nThe river of your life I trace\\nUp the sun-checkered, devious bed\\nTo the far-distant fountain-head.\\nNot one quick beat of your warm heart,\\nNor thought that came to you apart,\\nPleasure nor pity, love nor pain\\nNor sorrow, has gone by in vain;\\nBut as some lone, wood-wandering child\\nBrings home with him at evening mild\\nThe thorns and flowers of all the wild,\\nFrom your whole life, O fair and true\\nYour flowers and thorns you bring with you!\\n292", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0330.jp2"}, "329": {"fulltext": "XXI.\\nREQUIEM.\\nUnder the wide and starry sky,\\nDig the grave and let me lie.\\nGlad did I live and gladly die,\\nAnd I laid me down with a will.\\nThis be the verse you grave for me\\nHere he lies where he longed to be\\nHome is the sailor, home from sea,\\nAnd the hunter home from the hill.\\n293", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0331.jp2"}, "330": {"fulltext": "XXII.\\nTHE CELESTIAL SURGEON.\\nIf I have faltered more or less\\nIn my great task of happiness;\\nIf I have moved among my race\\nAnd shown no glorious morning face;\\nIf beams from happy human eyes\\nHave moved me not; if morning skies,\\nBooks, and my food, and summer rain\\nKnocked on my sullen heart in vain\\nLord, thy most pointed pleasure take\\nAnd stab my spirit broad awake;\\nOr, Lord, if too obdurate I,\\nChoose thou, before that spirit die,\\nA piercing pain, a killing sin.\\nAnd to my dead heart run them in!\\n294", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0332.jp2"}, "331": {"fulltext": "XXIII.\\nOUR LADY OF THE SNOWS.\\nOut of the sun, out of the blast,\\nOut of the world, alone I passed\\nAcross the moor and through the wood\\nTo where the monastery stood.\\nThere neither lute nor breathing fife,\\nNor rumour of the world of life,\\nNor confidences low and dear,\\nShall strike the meditative ear.\\niMoof, unhelpful, and unkind,\\nThe prisoners of the iron mind.\\nWhere nothing speaks except the hell,\\nThe unfraternal brothers dwell.\\nPoor, passionate men, still clothed afresh\\nWith agonizing folds of flesh;\\nWhom the clear eyes solicit still\\nTo some bold output of the will,\\nWhile fairy Fancy far before\\n295", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0333.jp2"}, "332": {"fulltext": "296 OUR LADY OF THE SNOIVS.\\nAnd musing Memory-Hold-the-door\\nNow to heroic death invite\\nAnd now uncurtain fresh delight:\\nO, little boots it thus to dwell\\nOn the remote unneighboured hill!\\nO, to be up and doing, O\\nUnfearing and unshamed to go\\nIn all the uproar and the press\\nAbout my human business\\nMy undissuaded heart I hear\\nWhisper courage in my ear.\\nWith voiceless calls, the ancient earth\\nSummons me to a daily birth.\\nThou, O my love, ye, O my friends\\nThe gist of life, the end of ends\\nTo laugh, to love, to live, to die,\\nYe call me by the ear and eye!\\nForth from the casemate, on the plain\\nWhere honour has the world to gain,\\nPour forth and bravely do your part,\\nO knights of the unshielded heart!\\nForth and forever forward out", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0334.jp2"}, "333": {"fulltext": "OUR LADY OF THE SNOIVS. 297\\nFrom prudent turret and redoubt,\\nAnd in the mellay charge amain,\\nTo fall, but yet to rise again\\nCaptive? ah, still, to honour bright,\\nA captive soldier of the right!\\nOr free and fighting, good with ill?\\nUnconquering but unconquered still\\nAnd ye, O brethren, what if God,\\nWhen from heav n s top He spies abroad,\\nAnd sees on this tormented stage\\nThe noble war of mankind rage:\\nWhat if His vivifying eye,\\nO monks, should pass your corner by?\\nFor still the Lord is Lord of might;\\nIn deeds, in deeds. He takes delight;\\nThe plow, the spear, the laden barks.\\nThe field, the founded city, marks;\\nHe marks the smiler of the streets.\\nThe singer upon garden seats;\\nHe sees the climber in the rocks:\\nTo Him the shepherd folds his flocks.\\nFor those He loves that underprop\\nWith daily virtues heaven s top,", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0335.jp2"}, "334": {"fulltext": "298 OUR LADY OF THE SNOIVS.\\nAnd bear the falling sky with ease,\\nUnfrowning caryatides.\\nThose he approves that ply the trade,\\nThat rock the child, that wed the maid.\\nThat with weak virtues, weaker hands,\\nSow gladness on the peopled lands.\\nAnd still with laughter, song and shout,\\nSpin the great wheel of earth about.\\nBut ye? O ye who linger still.\\nHere in your fortress on the hill.\\nWith placid face, with tranquil breath.\\nThe unsought volunteers of death,\\nOur cheerful General on high\\nWith careless looks may pass you by.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0336.jp2"}, "335": {"fulltext": "XXIV.\\nNot yet, my soul, these friendly fields desert,\\nWhere thou with grass, and rivers, and the\\nbreeze,\\nAnd the bright face of day, thy dalliance\\nhadst;\\nWhere to thine ear first sang the enraptured\\nbirds;\\nWhere love and thou that lasting bargain made.\\nThe ship rides trimmed, and from the eternal\\nshore\\nThou hearest airy voices; but not yet\\nDepart, my soul, not yet a while depart.\\nFreedom is far, rest far. Thou art with life\\nToo closely woven, nerve with nerve entwined;\\nService still craving service, love for love.\\nLove for dear love, still suppliant with tears.\\nx Mas, not yet thy human task is done\\nA bond at birth is forged; a debt doth lie\\n299", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0337.jp2"}, "336": {"fulltext": "oOO NOT YET, MY SOUL.\\nImmortal on mortality. It grows\\nBy vast rebound it grows, unceasing growth;\\nGift upon gift, alms upon alms, upreared,\\nFrom man, from God, from nature, till the\\nsoul\\nAt that so huge indulgence stands amazed.\\nLeave not, my soul, the unfoughten field, nor\\nleave\\nThy debts dishonoured, nor thy place desert\\nWithout due service rendered. For thy life,\\nUp, spirit, and defend that fort of clay.\\nThy body, now beleaguered; whether soon\\nOr late she fall; whether to-day thy friends.\\nBewail thee dead, or, after years, a man\\nGrown old in honour and the friend of peace.\\nContend, my soul, for moments and for hours;\\nEach is with service pregnant; each reclaimed\\nIs as a kingdom conquered, where to reign.\\nAs when a captain rallies to the fight\\nHis scattered legions, and beats ruin back.\\nHe, on the field, encamps, well pleased in\\nmind.\\nYet surely him shall fortune overtake,", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0338.jp2"}, "337": {"fulltext": "NOT YET, MY SOUL 301\\nHim smite in turn, headlong his ensigns drive;\\nAnd that dear land, now safe, to-morrow fall.\\nBut he, unthinking, in the present good\\nSolely delights, and all the camps rejoice.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0339.jp2"}, "338": {"fulltext": "XXV.\\nIt is not yours, O mother, to complain,\\nNot, mother, yours to weep.\\nThough nevermore your son again\\nShall to your bosom creep.\\nThough nevermore again you watch your baby\\nsleep.\\nThough in the greener paths of earth,\\nMother and child no more\\nWe wander; and no more the birth\\nOf me whom once you bore\\nSeems still the brave reward that once it seemed\\nof yore;\\nThough as all passes, day and night,\\nThe seasons and the years.\\nFrom you, O mother, this delight.\\nThis also disappears\\nSome profit yet survives of all your pangs and\\ntears.\\n302", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0340.jp2"}, "339": {"fulltext": "IT IS NOT YOURS, O MOTHER. 303\\nThe child, the seed, the grain of corn,\\nThe acorn on the hill,\\nEach for some separate end is born\\nIn season fit, and still\\nEach must in strength arise to work the\\nalmighty will.\\nSo from the hearth the children flee,\\nBy that almighty hand\\nAusterely led; so one by sea\\nGoes forth, and one by land;\\nNor aught of all man s sons escape from that\\ncommand.\\nSo from the sally each obeys\\nThe unseen almighty nod;\\nSo till the ending all their ways\\nBlindfolded loath have trod:\\nNor knew their task at all, but were the tools\\nof God.\\nAnd as the fervent smith of yore\\nBeat out the glowing blade.\\nNor wielded in the front of war", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0341.jp2"}, "340": {"fulltext": "304 IT IS NOT YOURS, O MOTHER.\\nThe weapons that he made,\\nBut in the tower at home still plied his ringing\\ntrade\\nSo like a sword the son shall roam\\nOn nobler missions sent;\\nAnd as the smith remained at home\\nIn peaceful turret pent,\\nSo sits the while at home the mother well\\ncontent.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0342.jp2"}, "341": {"fulltext": "XXVI.\\nTHE SICK CHILD.\\nChild\\nO MOTHER, lay your hand on my brow!\\nmother, mother, where am I now?\\nWhy is the room so gaunt and great?\\nWhy am I lying awake so late?\\nMother\\nFear not at all: the night is still;\\nNothing is here that means you ill\\nNothing but lamps the whole town through,\\nAnd never a child awake but you.\\nChild\\nMother, mother, speak low in my ear,\\nSome of the things are so great and near.\\nSome are so small and far away,\\n1 have a fear that I cannot say.\\nWhat have I done, and what do I fear.\\nAnd why are you crying, mother dear?\\n305", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0343.jp2"}, "342": {"fulltext": "306 THE SICK CHILD\\nMother\\nOut in the city, sounds begin;\\nThank the kind God, the carts come in!\\nAn hour or two more, and God is so kind,\\nThe day shall be blue in the window-blind,\\nThen shall my child go sweetly asleep.\\nAnd dream of the birds and the hills of\\nsheep.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0344.jp2"}, "343": {"fulltext": "XXVII.\\nIN MEMORIAM F. A. S.\\nYet, O stricken heart, remember, O remember\\nHow of human days he lived the better part.\\nApril came to bloom and never dim December\\nBreathed its killing chills upon the head or\\nheart.\\nDoomed to know not winter, only spring, a\\nbeing\\nTrod the flowery April blithely for a while.\\nTook his fill of music, joy of thought and\\nseeing,\\nCame and stayed and went, nor ever ceased\\nto smile.\\nCame and stayed and went, and now when all\\nis finished,\\nYou alone have crossed the melancholy\\nstream,\\n307", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0345.jp2"}, "344": {"fulltext": "308 IN MEMORIAM F. A. S.\\nYours the pang, but his, O his, the undi-\\nminished\\nUndecaying gladness, undeparted dream.\\nAll that life contains of torture, toil, and\\ntreason.\\nShame, dishonour, death, to him were but a\\nname.\\nHere, a boy, he dwelt through all the singing\\nseason\\nAnd ere the day of sorrow departed as he\\ncame.\\nDavos, 1881.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0346.jp2"}, "345": {"fulltext": "XXVIII.\\nTO MY FATHER.\\nPeace and her huge invasion to these shores\\nPuts daily home; innumerable sails\\nDawn on the far horizon and draw near;\\nInnumerable loves, uncounted hopes\\nTo our wild coasts, not darkling now, approach\\nNot now obscure, since thou and thine are\\nthere,\\nAnd bright on the lone isle, the foundered reef.\\nThe long, resounding foreland, Pharos stands.\\nThese are thy works, O father, these thy\\ncrown\\nWhether on high the air be pure, they shine\\nAlong the yellowing sunset, and all night\\nAmong the unnumbered stars of God they shine;\\nOr whether fogs arise and far and wide\\nThe low sea-level drown each finds a tongue\\nAnd all night long the tolling bell resounds:\\n309", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0347.jp2"}, "346": {"fulltext": "310 TO MY FATHER.\\nSo shine, so toll, till night be overpast,\\nTill the stars vanish, till the sun return.\\nAnd in the haven rides the fleet secure.\\nIn the first hour, the seaman in his skiff\\nMoves through the unmoving bay, to where the\\ntown\\nIts earliest smoke into the air upbreathes\\nAnd the rough hazels climb along the beach.\\nTo the tugg d oar the distant echo speaks.\\nThe ship lies resting, where by reef and roost\\nThou and thy lights have led her like a child.\\nThis hast thou done, and I can I be base?\\nI must arise, O father, and to port\\nSome lost, complaining seaman pilot home.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0348.jp2"}, "347": {"fulltext": "XXIX.\\nIN THE STATES.\\nWith half a heart I wander here\\nAs from an age gone by\\nA brother yet though young in years,\\nAn elder brother, I.\\nYou speak another tongue than mine.\\nThough both were English born.\\nI toward the night of time decline,\\nYou mount into the morn.\\nYouth shall grow great and strong and freC;\\nBut age must still decay\\nTo-morrow for the States for me,\\nEngland and Yesterday.\\nSan Francisco.\\n311", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0349.jp2"}, "348": {"fulltext": "XXX.\\nA PORTRAIT.\\nI AM a kind of farthing dip,\\nUnfriendly to the nose and eyes;\\nA blue-behinded ape, I skip\\nUpon the trees of Paradise.\\nAt mankind s feast, I take my place\\nIn solemn, sanctimonious state.\\nAnd have the air of saying grace\\nWhile I defile the dinner-plate.\\nI am the smiler with the knife,\\nThe battener upon garbage, I\\nDear Heaven, with such a rancid life,\\nWere it not better far to die?\\nYet still, about the human pale,\\nI love to scamper, love to race.\\nTo swing by my irreverent tail\\nAll over the most holy place;\\n312", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0350.jp2"}, "349": {"fulltext": "A PORTRAIT. 313\\nAnd when at length, some golden day,\\nThe unfailing sportsman, aiming at,\\nShall bag, me all the world shall say,\\nThank God, and there s an end of that", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0351.jp2"}, "350": {"fulltext": "XXXI.\\nSing clearlier, Muse, or evermore be still,\\nSing truer or no longer sing!\\nNo more the voice of melancholy Jacques\\nTo wake a weeping echo in the hill;\\nBut as the boy, the pirate of the spring.\\nFrom the green elm a living linnet takes.\\nOne natural verse recapture then be still.\\n314", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0352.jp2"}, "351": {"fulltext": "XXXII.\\nA CAMP.i\\nThe bed was made, the room was fit,\\nBy punctual eve the stars were lit;\\nThe air was still, the water ran.\\nNo need was there for maid or man.\\nWhen we put up, my ass and I,\\nAt God s green caravanserai.\\n1 From Travels with a Donkey.\\n315", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0353.jp2"}, "352": {"fulltext": "XXXIII.\\nTHE COUNTRY OF THE CAMISARDS.^\\nWe travelled in the print of olden wars,\\nYet all the land was green\\nAnd love we found, and peace,\\nWhere fire and war had been.\\nThey pass and smile, the children of the sword\\nNo more the sword they wield;\\nAnd O, how deep the corn\\nAlong the battlefield!\\n1 From Travels with a Donkey.\\n316", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0354.jp2"}, "353": {"fulltext": "XXXIV.\\nSKERRYVORE.\\nFor love of lovely words and for the sake\\nOf those, my kinsmen and my countrymen,\\nWho early and late in the windy ocean toiled\\nTo plant a star for seamen, where was then\\nThe surfy haunt of seals and cormorants:\\nI, on the lintel of this cot, inscribe\\nThe name of a strong tower.\\n317", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0355.jp2"}, "354": {"fulltext": "XXXV.\\nSKERRYVORE: The Parallel.\\nHere all is sunny, and when the truant gull\\nSkims the green level of the lawn, his wing\\nDispetals roses; here the house is framed\\nOf kneaded brick and the plumed mountain\\npine.\\nSuch clay as artists fashion and such wood\\nAs the tree-climbing urchin breaks. But there\\nEternal granite hewn from the living isle\\nAnd dowelled with brute iron, rears a tower\\nThat from its wet foundation to its crown\\nOf glittering glass, stands, in the sweep of\\nwinds,\\nImmovable, immortal, eminent.\\n318", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0356.jp2"}, "355": {"fulltext": "XXXVI.\\nMy house, I say. But hark to the sunny doves\\nThat make my roof the arena of their loves,\\nThat gyre about the gable all day long\\nAnd fill the chimneys with their murmurous\\nsong:\\nOur house, they say; and mine, the cat de-\\nclares\\nAnd spreads his golden fleece upon the chairs;\\nAnd 7nine, the dog, and rises stiff with wrath\\nIf any alien foot profane the path.\\nSo too the buck that trimmed my terraces,\\nOur whilome gardener, called the garden his\\nWho now, deposed, surveys my plam abode\\nAnd his late kingdom, only from the road.\\n319", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0357.jp2"}, "356": {"fulltext": "XXXVII.\\nMy body, which my dungeon is,\\nAnd yet my parks and palaces:\\nWhich is so great that there I go\\nAll the day long to and fro,\\nAnd when the night begins to fall\\nThrow down my bed and sleep, while all\\nThe building hums with wakefulness\\nEven as a child of savages\\nWhen evening takes her on her way\\n(She having roamed a summer s day\\nAlong the mountain-sides and scalp).\\nSleeps in an antre of that alp\\nWhich is so broad and high that there,\\nAs in the topless fields of air,\\nMy fancy soars like to a kite\\nAnd faints in the blue infinite:\\nWhich is so strong, my strongest throes\\nAnd the rough world s besieging blows\\nNot break it, and so weak withal.\\nDeath ebbs and flows in its loose wall\\n320", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0358.jp2"}, "357": {"fulltext": "MY BODY, IVHICH MY DUNGEON IS. 321\\nAs the green sea in fishers nets,\\nAnd tops its topmost parapets:\\nWhich is so wholly mine that I\\nCan wield its whole artillery,\\nAnd mine so little, that my soul\\nDwells in perpetual control,\\nAnd I but think and speak and do\\nAs my dead fathers move me to:\\nIf this born body of my bones\\nThe beggared soul so barely owns,\\nWhat money passed from hand to hand,\\nWhat creeping custom of the land,\\nWhat deed of author or assign,\\nCan make a house a thing of mine?", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0359.jp2"}, "358": {"fulltext": "XXXVIII.\\nSay not of me that weakly I declined\\nThe labours of my sires, and fled the sea,\\nThe towers we founded and the lamps we lit,\\nTo play at home with paper like a child.\\nBut rather say In the afternoon of time\\nA strenuous family dusted from its hands\\nThe sand of granite, and beholding far\\nAlong the sounding coast its pyramids\\nAnd tall memorials catch the dying sun,\\nSmiled well content, and to this childish task\\nAround the fire addressed its evening hours.\\n322", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0360.jp2"}, "359": {"fulltext": "BOOK II.\u00e2\u0080\u0094 IN SCOTS.\\nTABLE OF COMMON SCOTTISH VOWEL SOUNDS.\\nae 1\\nV open A, as in rare.\\nau AW, as in law.\\naw.\\nca open e, as in mere, but this with exceptions, as\\nheather heather, wean wain, lear lair.\\nee 1\\nei V open e, as in mere.\\nie J\\noa open o, as in more.\\nou doubled o, as in poor.\\now o\\\\v, as in bower.\\nu doubled O, as in poor.\\nui or ii before R (say roughly) open A, as in rare.\\nui or ii before any other consonant (say roughly) close i,\\nas in grin.\\ny open i, as in kite.\\ni pretty nearly what you please, much as in English.\\nHeaven guide the reader through that labyrinth I\\nBut in Scots it dodges usually from the short i, as\\nin grin, to the open E, as in mere. Find and\\nblind, I may remark, are pronounced to rhyme\\nwith the preterite of grin.\\n323", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0361.jp2"}, "360": {"fulltext": "THE MAKER TO POSTERITY.\\nFar yont amang the years to be,\\nWhen a we think, an a we see,\\nAn a we luve, s been dung ajee\\nBy time s rouch shouther,\\nAn what was richt and wrang for\\nLies mangled throu ther,\\nIt s possible it s hardly mair\\nThat some ane, ripin after lear\\nSome auld professor or young heir,\\nIf still there s either\\nMay find an read me, an be sair\\nPerplexed, puir brither!\\nW/ia/ tongue does your auld bookie speak\\nHe ll spier; an I, his mou to steik:\\nNo beiti fit to write i?i Greeks\\nI wrote in Lallan,\\n324", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0362.jp2"}, "361": {"fulltext": "THE MAKER TO POSTERITY. 32i\\nDear to my heart as the peat reeky\\nAuld as Tantallon.\\nFew spak it than, an noo there s nane.\\nMy ptiir auld sangs lie a their latie,\\nTheir sense, that aince was draw an* plain,\\nTint a thegether,\\nLike runes upon a standin stane\\nAmang the heather.\\nBut think not you the brae to spcel\\nYou, tae, maim chow the bitter peel\\nFor a your tear, for a your skeel.\\nYe re nane sae lucky\\nAn things are mebbe waur than we el\\nFor you, my buckie.\\nThe hale concern {baith hens an eggs,\\nBaith books an writers, stars an clegs)\\nNoo stackers upon lowsent legs\\nAn wears aw a\\nThe tack o ?nankind, near the dregs,\\nRins unco law.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0363.jp2"}, "362": {"fulltext": "326 THE MAKER TO POSTERITY.\\nYour book, that in some braiv new tongue^\\nYe wrote or prentit, preached or sung,\\nWill still be just a bairn, an young\\nIn fame an years,\\nWhan the hale planet s guts are dung\\nAbout your ears\\nAn^ you, sair gruppin to a spar\\nOr whammled wV some bleezin star,\\nCryin tae ken whaur deil ye are,\\nHame, France, or Flanders\\nWhang sindry like a railway car\\nAn flie iti danders.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0364.jp2"}, "363": {"fulltext": "II.\\nILLE TERRARUM.\\nFrae nirly, nippin Eas lan breeze,\\nFrae Norlan snaw, an haar o seas,\\nWeel happit in your gairden trees,\\nA bonny bit,\\nAtween the muckle Pentland s knees,\\nSecure ye sit.\\nBeeches an aiks entwine their theek.\\nAn firs, a stench, auld-farrant clique.\\nA simmer day, your chimleys reek,\\nCouthy and bien;\\nAn here an there your windies keek\\nAmang the green.\\nA pickle plats an paths an posies,\\nA wheen auld gillyflowers an roses\\nA ring o wa s the hale encloses\\nFrae sheep or men;\\n327", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0365.jp2"}, "364": {"fulltext": "328 ILLE TERRARUM.\\nAn there the auld housie beeks an dozes\\nA by her lane.\\nThe gairdner crooks his weary back\\nA day in the pitaty-track,\\nOr mebbe stops a while to crack\\nWi Jane the cook,\\nOr at some buss, worm-eaten-black,\\nTo gie a look.\\nFrae the high hills the curlew ca s;\\nThe sheep gang baaing by the wa s;\\nOr whiles a clan o roosty craws\\nCangle together;\\nThe wild bees seek the gairden raws,\\nWeariet wi heather.\\nOr in the gloamin douce an gray\\nThe sweet-throat mavis tunes her lay;\\nThe herd comes linkin doun the brae;\\nAn by degrees\\nThe muckle siller miine maks way\\nAmang the trees.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0366.jp2"}, "365": {"fulltext": "ILLE TERRARUM. 329\\nHere aft hae I, wi sober heart,\\nFor meditation sat apairt,\\nWhen orra loves or kittle art\\nPerplexed my mind;\\nHere socht a balm for ilka smart\\nO humankind.\\nHere aft, weel neukit by my lane,\\nWi Horace, or perhaps Montaigne,\\nThe mornin hours hae come an gane\\nAbiine my heid^\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nI wadnae gi en a chucky-stane\\nFor a I d read.\\nBut noo the auld city, street by street,\\nAn winter fu o snaw an sleet,\\nA while shut in my gangrel feet\\nAn goavin mettle;\\nNoo is the soopit ingle sweet.\\nAn liltin kettle.\\nAn noo the winter winds complain;\\nCauld lies the glaur in ilka lane;", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0367.jp2"}, "366": {"fulltext": "330 ILLE TERRARUM.\\nOn draigled hizzie, tautit wean,\\nAn drucken lads,\\nIn the mirk nicht, the winter rain\\nDribbles an blads.\\nWhan bugles frae the Castle rock,\\nAn beaten drums, wi dowie shock,\\nWauken, at cauld-rife sax o clock.\\nMy chitterin frame,\\nI mind me on the kintry cock,\\nThe kintry hame.\\nI mind me on yon bonny bield;\\nAn Fancy traivels far afield\\nTo gaither a that gairdens yield\\nO sun an Simmer:\\nTo hearten up a dowie chield.\\nFancy s the limmer!", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0368.jp2"}, "367": {"fulltext": "III.\\nWhen aince Aprile has fairly come,\\nAn birds may bigg in winter s lum,\\nAn pleisure s spreid for a and some\\nO whatna state,\\nLove, wi her auld recruitin drum.\\nThan taks the gate.\\nThe heart plays dunt wi main an micht;\\nThe lasses een are a sae bricht,\\nTheir dresses are sae braw an ticht.\\nThe bonny birdies!\\nPuir winter virtue at the sicht\\nGangs heels ower hurdles.\\nAn aye as love frae land to land\\nTirls the drum wi tident hand,\\nA men collect at her command\\nToun-bred or land art,\\nAn follow in a denty band\\nHer gaucy standart.\\n331", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0369.jp2"}, "368": {"fulltext": "332 AINCE APRILE HAS FAIRLY COME.\\nAn I, wha sang o rain an snaw,\\nAn weary winter weel awa\\nNoo busk me in a jacket braw,\\nAn tak my place\\nr the ram-stam, harum-scarum raw\\nWi smilin face.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0370.jp2"}, "369": {"fulltext": "IV.\\nA MILE AN A BITTOCK.\\nA MILE an a bittock, a mile or twa,\\nAbiine the burn, ayont the law,\\nDavie an Donal an Cherlie an a\\nAn the miine was shinin clearly!\\nAne went hame wi the ither, an then\\nThe ither went hame wi the ither twa men,\\nAn baith wad return him the service again,\\nAn the miine was shinin clearly\\nThe clocks were chappin in house an ha\\nEleeven, twal, an ane an twa;\\ni\\\\n the guidman s face was turnt to the wa\\nAn the miine was shinin clearly\\nA wind got up frae affa the sea,\\nIt blew the stars as dear s could be,\\n333", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0371.jp2"}, "370": {"fulltext": "334 A MILE AN A BITTOCK.\\nIt blew in the een of a o the three,.\\nAn the mline was shinin clearly!\\nNoo, Davie was first to get sleep in his head,\\nThe best o frien s maun twine, he said;\\nI m weariet, an here I m awa to my bed.\\nAn the mline was shinin clearly!\\nTwa o them walkin an crackin their lane,\\nThe mornin licht cam gray an plain,\\nAn the birds they yammert on stick an stane,\\nAn the mline was shinin clearly!\\nO years ayont, O years awa\\nMy lads, ye 11 mind whate er befa\\nMy lads, ye 11 mind on the bield o the law,\\nWhen the mune was shinin clearly.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0372.jp2"}, "371": {"fulltext": "A Lawden Sabbath Mc", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0373.jp2"}, "372": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0374.jp2"}, "373": {"fulltext": "A LOWDEN SABBATH MORN.\\nThe clinkum-clank o Sabbath bells\\nNoo to the hoastin rookery swells,\\nNoo faintin laigh in shady dells,\\nSounds far an near,\\nAn through the simmer kintry tells\\nIts tale o cheer.\\nAn noo, to that melodious play,\\nA deidly awn the quiet sway\\nA ken their sol emn holiday,\\nBestial an human.\\nThe singin lintie on the brae,\\nThe restin plou man.\\nHe, mair than a the lave o men.\\nHis week completit joys to ken;\\nHalf-dressed, he daunders out an in,\\nPerplext wi leisure;\\n335", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0375.jp2"}, "374": {"fulltext": "336 A LOU/DEN SABBATH MORN.\\nAd his raxt limbs he ll rax again\\nWi painfii pleesure.\\nThe steerin mither Strang afit\\nNoo shoos the bairnies but a bit;\\nNoo cries them ben, their Sinday shuit\\nTo scart upon them,\\nOr sweeties in their pouch to pit,\\nWi blessin s on them.\\nThe lasses, clean frae tap to taes.\\nAre busked in crunklin underclaes;\\nThe gartened hose, the weel-filled stays,\\nThe nakit shift,\\nA bleached on bonny greens for days.\\nAn white s the drift.\\nAn noo to face the kirkward mile:\\nThe guidman s hat o dacent style.\\nThe blackit shoon, we noo maun fyle\\nAs white s the miller:\\nA waefli peety tae, to spile\\nThe warth o siller.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0376.jp2"}, "375": {"fulltext": "_ A LOW DEN SABBATH MORN. 337\\nOur Marg et, aye sae keen to crack,\\nDouce-stappin in the stoury track,\\nHer emeralt goun a kiltit back\\nFrae snawy coats,\\nWhite-ankled, leads the kirkward pack\\nWi Dauvit Groats.\\nA thocht ahint, in runkled breeks\\nA spiled wi lyin by for weeks,\\nThe guidman follows closs, an cleiks\\nThe sonsie missis;\\nHis sarious face at aince bespeaks\\nThe day that this is.\\nAnd aye an while we nearer draw\\nTo whaur the kirton lies alaw,\\nMair neebors, comin saft an slaw\\nFrae here an there,\\nThe thicker thrang the gate an caw\\nThe stour in air.\\nBut hark! the bells frae nearer clang;\\nTo rowst the slaw, their sides they bang;", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0377.jp2"}, "376": {"fulltext": "338 A LOIVDEN SABBATH MORN.\\nAn see! black coats a ready thrang\\nThe green kirkyaird,\\nAnd at the yett, the chestnuts spang\\nThat brocht the laird.\\nThe solemn elders at the plate\\nStand drinkin deep the pride o state:\\nThat practised hands as gash an great\\nAs Lords o Session;\\nThe later named, a wee thing blate\\nIn their expression.\\nThe prentit stanes that mark the deid,\\nWi lengthened lip, the sarious read;\\nSyne wag a moraleesin held.\\nAn then an there\\nTheir hirplin practice an their creed\\nTry hard to square.\\nIt s here our Merren lang has lain,\\nA wee bewast the table-stane;\\nAn yon s the grave o Sandy Blane;\\nAn further ower.\\nThe mither s brithers, dacent men!\\nLie a the fower.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0378.jp2"}, "377": {"fulltext": "A LOWDEN SABBATH MORN. 339\\nHere the guidman sail bide awee\\nTo dwall amang the deid; to see\\nAuld faces clear in fancy s e e;\\nBelike to hear\\nAuld voices fa in saft an slee\\nOn fancy s e?r.\\nThus, on the day o solemn things,\\nThe bell that in the steeple swings\\nTo fauld a scaittered faim ly rings\\nIts walcome screed;\\nAn just a wee thing nearer brings\\nThe quick an deid.\\nBut noo the bell is ringin in;\\nTo tak their places, folk begin;\\nThe minister himsel will shiine\\nBe up the gate,\\nFilled fu wi clavers about sin\\nAn man s estate.\\nThe tunes are up French^ to be shiire,\\nThe faithfii French^ an twa-three mair.\\nThe auld prezentor, hoastin sair,\\nWales out the portions,", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0379.jp2"}, "378": {"fulltext": "340 A LOW DEN SABBATH MORN.\\nAn yirks the tiine into the air\\nWi queer contortions.\\nFollows the prayer, the readin next,\\nAn than the fisslin for the text\\nThe twa-three last to find it, vext\\nBut kind o proud;\\nAn than the peppermints are raxed,\\nAn southernwood.\\nFor noo s the time whan pows are seen\\nNid-noddin like a mandareen;\\nWhen tenty mithers stap a preen\\nIn sleepin weans;\\nAn nearly half the parochine\\nForget their pains.\\nThere s just a waukrif twa or three:\\nThrawn commentautors sweer to gree,\\nWeans glowrin at the bumblin bee\\nOn windie-glasses,\\nOr lads that tak a keek a-glee\\nAt sonsie lasses.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0380.jp2"}, "379": {"fulltext": "A LOIVDEN SABBATH MORN. 341\\nHimsel meanwhile, frae whaur he cocks\\nAn bobs belaw the soundin -box,\\nThe treesures of his words unlocks\\nWi prodigality,\\nAn deals some unco dingin knocks\\nTo infidality.\\nWi sappy unction, hoo he burkes\\nThe hopes o men that trust in works,\\nExpounds the fau ts o ither kirks,\\nAn shaws the best o them\\nNo muckle better than mere Turks,\\nWhen a s confessed o them.\\nBethankit what a bonny creed\\nWhat mair would ony Christian need?\\nThe braw words rumm le ower his heid.\\nNor steer the sleeper;\\nAn in their restin graves, the deid\\nSleep aye the deeper.\\nNote. It may be guessed by some that I had a certain\\nparish in my eye, and this makes it proper I should add a\\nword of disclamation. In my time there have been two\\nministers in that parish. Of the first I have a special", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0381.jp2"}, "380": {"fulltext": "342 A LOW DEN SABBATH MORN.\\nreason to speak well, even had there been any to think\\nill. The second I have often met in private, and long (in\\nthe due phrase) sat under in his church, and neither\\nhere nor there have I heard an unkind or ugly word upon\\nhis lips. The preacher of the text had thus no original in\\nthat particular parish; but when I was a boy, he might\\nhave been observed in many others; he was then (like the\\nschoolmaster) abroad; and, by recent advices, it would\\nseem he has not yet entirely disappeared.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0382.jp2"}, "381": {"fulltext": "VI.\\nTHE SPAEWIFE.\\nO, I wad like to ken to the beggar-wife\\nsays I\\nWhy chops are guid to brander and nane sae\\nguid to fry.\\nAn siller, that s sae braw to keep, is brawer\\nstill to gi e.\\nIfs gey ail easy spier in\\\\ says the beggar-\\nwife to me.\\nO, I wad like to ken to the beggar-wife\\nsays I\\nHoo a things come to be whaur we find them\\nwhen we try,\\nThe lasses in their claes an the fishes in the\\nsea.\\nIt s gey an easy spierin\\\\ says the beggar-\\nwife to me.\\n343", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0383.jp2"}, "382": {"fulltext": "344 THE SPAEH^IFE,\\nO, I wad like to ken to the beggar-wife\\nsays I\\nWhy lads are a to sell an lasses a to buy;\\nAn naebody for dacency but barely twa or\\nthree\\nJl s gey an easy spierin\\\\ says the beggar-\\nwife to me.\\nO, I wad like to ken to the beggar-wife\\nsays I\\nGin death s as shiire to men as killin is to kye,\\nWhy God has filled the yearth sae fu o tasty\\nthings to pree.\\nIt s gey an easy spierin\\\\ say the beggar-\\nwife to me.\\nO, I wad like to ken to the beggar-wife\\nsays I\\nThe reason o the cause an the wherefore o\\nthe why,\\nWi mony anither riddle brings the tear into\\nmy e e.\\nIt s gey an easy spierin says the beggar-\\nwife to me.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0384.jp2"}, "383": {"fulltext": "VII.\\nTHE BLAST\u00e2\u0080\u0094 1875.\\nIt s rainin Weet s the gairden sod\\nWeet the lang roads whaur gangrels plod\\nA maist unceevil thing o God\\nIn mid July\\nIf ye 11 just curse the sneckdraw, dod!\\nAn sae wull I\\nHe s a braw place in heev n, ye ken,\\nAn lea s us puir, forjaskit men\\nClamjamfried in the but and ben\\nHe ca s the earth\\nA wee bit inconvenient den\\nNo muckle worth;\\nAn whiles, at orra times, keeks out.\\nSees what puir mankind are about;\\nAn if He can, I ve little doubt,\\nUpsets their plans;\\n345", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0385.jp2"}, "384": {"fulltext": "346 THE BLAST\u00e2\u0080\u0094 1875-\\nHe hates a mankind, brainch and root,\\nAn a that s man s.\\nAn whiles, whan they tak heart again.\\nAn life i the sun looks braw an plain,\\nDoun comes a jaw o droukin rain\\nUpon their honours\\nGod sends a spate outower the plain,\\nOr mebbe thun ers.\\nLord safe us, life s an unco thing!\\nSimmer an Winter, Yule an Spring,\\nThe damned, dour-heartit seasons bring\\nA feck o trouble.\\nI wadna try t to be a king\\nNo, nor for double.\\nBut since we re in it, willy-nilly.\\nWe maun be watchfii wise, an skilly\\nAn no mind ony ither billy.\\nLassie nor God.\\nBut drink that s my best counsel till e\\nSae tak the nod.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0386.jp2"}, "385": {"fulltext": "VIII.\\nTHE COUNTERBLAST 1886.\\nMy bonny man, the warld, it s true,\\nWas made for neither me nor you;\\nIt s just a place to warstle through,\\nAs Job confessed o t;\\nAnd aye the best that we 11 can do\\nIs mak the best o t.\\nThere s rowth o wrang, I m free to say\\nThe simmer brunt, the winter blae,\\nThe face of earth a fyled wi clay\\nAn dour wi chuckies.\\nAn life a rough an land art play\\nFor country buckles.\\nAn food s anither name for clart;\\nAn beasts an brambles bite an scart;\\nAn what would we be like, my heart!\\nIf bared o claethin\\n347", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0387.jp2"}, "386": {"fulltext": "348 THE COUNTERBLAST~-i886.\\nAweel, I cannae mend your cart\\nIt s that or naethin\\nA feck o folk frae first to last\\nHave through this queer experience passed;\\nTvva-three, I ken, just damn an blast\\nThe hale transaction;\\nBut twa-three ithers, east an wast,\\nFand satisfaction.\\nWhaur braid the briery muirs expand,\\nA waefii an a weary land,\\nThe bumblebees, a gowden band.\\nAre blithely hingin\\nAn there the canty wanderer fand\\nThe laverock singin\\nTrout in the burn grow great as herr n\\nThe simple sheep can find their fair n\\nThe wind blaws clean about the cairn\\nWi caller air;\\nThe muircock an the barefit bairn\\nAre happy there.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0388.jp2"}, "387": {"fulltext": "THE COUNTERBLAST\u00e2\u0080\u0094 i8S6. 349\\nSic-like the howes o life to some\\nGreen loans whaiir they ne er fash their thumb,\\nBut mark the muckle winds that come,\\nSoopin an cool,\\nOr hear the powrin burnie drum\\nIn the shilfa s pool.\\nThe evil wi the guid they tak;\\nThey ca a gray thing gray, no black;\\nTo a steigh brae, a stubborn back\\nAddressin daily;\\nAn up the rude, unbieldy track\\nO life, gang gayly.\\nWhat you would like s a palace ha\\nOr Sinday parlour* dink an braw\\nWi a things ordered in a raw\\nBy denty leddies.\\nWeel, than, ye cannae hae t: that s a\\nThat to be said is.\\nAn since at life ye ve taen the grue.\\nAn winnae blithely hirsle through.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0389.jp2"}, "388": {"fulltext": "350 THE COUNTERBLAST\u00e2\u0080\u0094 1886.\\nYe ve fund the very thing to do\\nThat s to drink speerit;\\nAn shiine we ll hear the last o you\\nAn blithe to hear it!\\nThe shoon ye coft, the life ye lead,\\nIthers will heir when aince ye re deid;\\nThey 11 heir your tasteless bite o breid,\\nAn find it sappy;\\nThey 11 to your dulefii house succeed,\\nAn there be happy.\\nAs whan a glum an fractious wean\\nHas sat an sullened by his lane\\nTill, wi a rowstin skelp, he s taen\\nAn shoo d to bed\\nThe ither bairns a fa to play n\\nAs gleg s a gled.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0390.jp2"}, "389": {"fulltext": "IX.\\nTHE COUNTERBLAST IRONICAL.\\nIt s strange that God should fash to frame\\nThe yearth and lift sae hie,\\nAn clean forget to explain the same\\nTo a gentleman like me.\\nThey gutsy, donnered ither folk,\\nTheir weird they weel may dree;\\nBut why present a pig in a poke\\nTo a gentleman like me?\\nThey ither folk their parritch eat\\nAn sup their sugared tea;\\nBut the mind is no to be wyled wi meat\\nWi a gentleman like me.\\nThey ither folk, they court their joes\\nAt gloamin on the lea;\\n351", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0391.jp2"}, "390": {"fulltext": "352 THE COUNTERBLAST IRONICAL\\nBut they re made of a commoner clay, I\\nsuppose,\\nThan a gentleman like me.\\nThey ither folk, for richt or wrang,\\nThey suffer, bleed, or dee;\\nBut a thir things are an emp y sang\\nTo a gentleman like me.\\nIt s a different thing that I demand,\\nTho humble as can be\\nA statement fair in my Maker s hand\\nTo a gentleman like me:\\nA clear account writ fair an broad.\\nAn a plain apologie;\\nOr the deevil a ceevil word to God\\nFrom a gentleman like me.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0392.jp2"}, "391": {"fulltext": "X.\\nTHEIR LAUREATE TO AN ACADEMY\\nCLASS DINNER CLUB.\\nDear Thamson class, whaure er I gang\\nIt aye comes ower me wi a spang:\\nLords ake they Thamson lads {deil ha?ig\\nOr else Lord inend them\\nAn that wanchancy annual sang\\nI 7ie^er can send them\\nStraucht, at the name a trusty tyke,\\nMy conscience girrs ahint the dyke;\\nStraucht on my hinderlands I fyke\\nTo find a rhyme t ye;\\nPleased although mebbe no pleased-like\\nTo gie my time t ye.\\nWeel, an says you, wi heavin breist,\\n^Sae /ar, sae gui d, but what s the neist\\n353", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0393.jp2"}, "392": {"fulltext": "354 TO A DINNER CLUB.\\nYearly lae gaiiher to the feast,\\nA hopefil men\\nYearly ive skelloch Hang the beast\\nNae sang again\\nMy lads, an what am I to say?\\nYe shiirely ken the Muse s way:\\nYestreen, as gleg s a tyke the day,\\nThrawn like a cuddy:\\nHer conduc that to her s a play,\\nDeith to a body.\\nAft whan I sat an made my mane,\\nAft whan I laboured burd-alane\\nFishin for rhymes an findin nana,\\nOr nane were fit for ye\\nYe judged me cauld s a chucky stane-\\nNo car n a bit for ye!\\nBut saw ye ne er some pingein bairn\\nAs weak as a pitaty-par n\\nLess iised wi guidin horse-shoe airn\\nThan steerin crowdie", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0394.jp2"}, "393": {"fulltext": "TO A DINNER CLUB. 355\\nPacked aff his lane, by moss an cairn,\\nTo ca the howdie.\\nWae s me, for the puir callant than!\\nHe wambles like a poke o bran,\\nAn the lowse rein, as hard s he can,\\nPu s, trem lin hand it;\\nTill, blaff! upon his hinderlan\\nBehauld him landit.\\nSic-like I awn the weary fac\\nWhan on my muse the gate I tak.\\nAn see her gleed e e raxin back\\nTo keek ahint her;\\nTo me the brig of heev n gangs black\\nAs blackest winter.\\nLordsake ive j-eaff, thinks I, ^^butwhaur?\\nOfi ivhat abhorred and zvJiinny scaur,\\nOr whammled in ivhat sea o glaur,\\nWi/i she desert me?\\nAn^ will she Just disgrace? or waur\\nWill she no hurt me", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0395.jp2"}, "394": {"fulltext": "356 TO A DINNER CLUB.\\nKittle the quaere! But at least\\nThe day I ve backed the fashious beast,\\nWhile she, wi mony a spang an reist,\\nFlang heels ower bonnet;\\nAn a triumphant for your feast,\\nHae! there s your sonnet!", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0396.jp2"}, "395": {"fulltext": "XI.\\nEMBRO HIE KIRK.\\nThe Lord Himsel in former days\\nWaled out the proper tiines for praise\\nAn named the proper kind o claes\\nFor folk to preach in:\\nPreceese and in the chief o ways\\nImportant teachin\\nHe ordered a things, late and air\\nHe ordered folk to stand at prayer\\n(Although I cannae just mind where\\nHe gave the warnin\\nAn pit pomatum on their hair\\nOn Sabbath mornin\\nThe hale o life by His commands\\nWas ordered to a body s hands;\\nBut see this corpus juris stands\\nBy a forgotten;", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0397.jp2"}, "396": {"fulltext": "358 EMBRO HIE KIRK.\\nAn God s religion in a lands\\nIs deid an rotten.\\nWhile thus the lave o mankind s lost,\\nO Scotland still God maks His boast\\nPuir Scotland, on whase barren coast\\nA score or tvva\\nAuld wives wi mutches an a hoast\\nStill keep His law.\\nIn Scotland, a wheen canty, plain,\\nDouce kintry-leevin folk retain\\nThe Truth or did so aince alane\\nOf a men leevin\\nAn noo just twa o them remain\\nJust Begg an Niven.\\nFor noo, unfaithfii to the Lord\\nAuld Scotland joins the rebel horde;\\nHer human hymn-books on the board\\nShe noo displays:\\nAn Embro Hie Kirk s been restored\\nIn popish ways.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0398.jp2"}, "397": {"fulltext": "EMBRO HIE KIRK. 359\\nO punctum iemporis for action\\nTo a o the reformin faction,\\nIf yet, by ony act or paction,\\nThocht, word, or sermon.\\nThis dark an damnable transaction\\nMicht yet determine!\\nFor see as Doctor Begg explains\\nHoo easy t s dline a pickle weans,\\nWha in the Hie Street gaither stanes\\nBy his instruction,\\nThe uncovenantit, pentit panes\\nDing to destruction.\\nUp, Niven, or ower late an dash\\nLaigh in the glaur that carnal hash;\\nLet spires and pews wi gran stramash\\nThegether fa\\nThe rumlin kist o whustles smash\\nIn pieces sma\\nNoo choose ye out a walie hammer;\\nAbout the knottit buttress clam er;", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0399.jp2"}, "398": {"fulltext": "360 BMBRO HIE KIRK.\\nAlang the steep roof stoyt an stammer,\\nA gate mis- chancy;\\nOn the aul spire, the bells hie cha mer,\\nDance your bit dancie.\\nDing, devel, dunt, destroy, an ruin,\\nWi carnal stanes the square bestrevvin\\nTill your loud chaps frae Kyle to Fruin,\\nFrae hell to heeven.\\nTell the guid vvark that baith are doin\\nBaith Begg an Niven.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0400.jp2"}, "399": {"fulltext": "XII.\\nTHE SCOTSMAN S RETURN FROM\\nABROAD.\\n(In a letter from Mr. Thomson to Mr, Johnstone.)\\nIn mony a foreign pairt I ve been,\\nAn mony an unco ferlie seen,\\nSince, Mr. Johnstone, you and I\\nLast walkit upon Cocklerye.\\nWi gleg, observant een, I pass t\\nBy sea an land, through East an Wast,\\nAnd still in ilka age an station\\nSaw naething but abomination.\\nIn thir uncovenantit lands\\nThe gangrel Scot uplifts his hands\\nAt lack of a sectarian fiish n,\\nAn cauld religious destitution.\\nHe rins, puir man, frae place to place,\\nTries a their graceless means o grace.\\nPreacher on preacher, kirk on kirk\\nThis yin a stot an thon a stirk\\n361", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0401.jp2"}, "400": {"fulltext": "362 THE SCOTSMAN S\\nA bletherin clan, no warth a preen,\\nAs bad as Smith of Aiberdeen!\\nAt last, across the weary faem,\\nFrae far, outlandish pairts I came.\\nOn ilka side o me I fand\\nFresh tokens o my native land.\\nWi whatna joy I hailed them a\\nThe hilltaps standin raw by raw,\\nThe public house, the Hielan birks,\\nAnd a the bonny U. P. kirks\\nBut maistly thee, the bluid o Scots,\\nFrae Maidenkirk to John o Grots,\\nThe king o drinks, as I conceive it,\\nTalisker, Isla, or Glenlivet!\\nFor after years wi a pockmantie\\nFrae Zanzibar to Alicante,\\nIn mony a fash an sair affliction\\nI gie t as my sincere conviction\\nOf a their foreign tricks an pliskies,\\nI maist abominate their whiskies.\\nNae doot, themsel s, they ken it weel.\\nAn wi a hash o leemon peel.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0402.jp2"}, "401": {"fulltext": "RETURN FROM ^BRO/ID. 363\\nAn ice an siccan filth, they ettle\\nThe stawsome kind o goo to settle;\\nSic vversh apothecary s broos wi\\nAs Scotsmen scorn to fyle their moo s wi\\nAn man, I was a blithe hame-comer\\nWhan first I syndit out my rummer.\\nYe should hae seen me then, wi care\\nThe less important pairts prepare;\\nSyne, weel contentit wi it a\\nPour in the speerits wi a jaw!\\nI didnae drink, I didnae speak\\nI only snowkit up the reek.\\nI was sae pleased therein to paidle,\\nI sat an plowtered wi my ladle.\\nAn blithe was I, the morrow s morn,\\nTo daunder through the stookit corn.\\nAnd after a my strange mishanters.\\nSit doun amang my ain dissenters.\\nAn man, it was a joy to me\\nThe pu pit an the pews to see,\\nThe pennies dirlin in the plate.\\nThe elders lookin on in state;", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0403.jp2"}, "402": {"fulltext": "364 THE SCOTSMAN S\\nAn mang the first, as it befell,\\nWha should I see, sir, but yoursel\\nI was, and I will no deny it.\\nAt the first gliff a hantle tryit\\nTo see yoursel in sic a station\\nIt seemed a doubtfii dispensation.\\nThe feelin was a mere digression;\\nFor shline I understood the session,\\nAn mindin Aiken an M Neil,\\nI wondered they had dline sae weel.\\nI saw I had mysel to blame;\\nFor had I but remained at hame,\\nAiblins though no ava deservin t\\nThey micht hae named your humble servant.\\nThe kirk was filled, the door was steeked;\\nUp to the pu pit ance I keeked;\\nI was mair pleased than I can tell\\nIt was the minister himsel\\nProud, proud was I to see his face,\\nAfter sae lang awa frae grace.\\nPleased as I was, I m no deny in\\nSome maitters were not edifyin\\nFor first I fand an here was news!", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0404.jp2"}, "403": {"fulltext": "RETURN FROM ABROAD. 305\\nMere hymn-books cockin in the pews\\nA humanized abomination,\\nUnfit for ony congregation.\\nSyne, while I still was on the tenter,\\nI scunnered at the new prezentor;\\nI thocht him gesterin an cauld\\nA sair declension frae the auld.\\nSyne, as though a the faith was wreckit,\\nThe prayer was not what I d exspeckit.\\nHimsel as it appeared to me,\\nWas no the man he iised to be.\\nBut just as I was growin vext\\nHe waled a maist judeecious text.\\nAn launchin into his prelections,\\nSwoopt, wi a skirl, on a defections,\\nwhat a gale was on my speerit\\nTo hear the p ints o doctrine clearit,\\nAnd a the horrors o damnation\\nSet furth wi faithfli ministration!\\nNae shauchlin testimony here\\nWe were a damned, an that was clear.\\n1 owned, wi gratitude an wonder.\\nHe was a pleisure to sit under.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0405.jp2"}, "404": {"fulltext": "XIII.\\nLate in the nicht in bed I lay,\\nThe winds were at their weary play,\\nAn tirlin wa s an skirlin wae\\nThrough heev n they battered;\\nOn-ding o hail, on-blaff o spray,\\nThe tempest blattered.\\nThe masoned house it dinled through;\\nIt dung the ship, it cowped the coo\\nThe rankit aiks it overthrew.\\nHad braved a weathers;\\nThe Strang sea-gleds it took an blew\\nAwa like feathers.\\nThe thraes o fear on a were shed.\\nAn the hair rose, an slumber fled.\\nAn lichts were lit an prayers were said\\nThrough a the kintry;\\nAn the cauld terror clum in bed\\nVVi a an sindry.\\n36G", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0406.jp2"}, "405": {"fulltext": "LATE IN THE NICHT. 36^\\nTo hear in the pit-mirk on hie\\nThe brangled collieshangie flie,\\nThe warl they thocht, wi land an sea,\\nItsel wad cowpit;\\nAn for auld aim, the smashed debris\\nBy God be rowpit.\\nMeanwhile frae far Aldeboran,\\nTo folks wi talescopes in han\\nO ships that cowpit, winds that ran,\\nNae sign was seen,\\nBut the wee warl in sunshine span\\nAs bricht s a preen.\\nI, tae, by God s especial grace,\\nDwall denty in a bieldy place\\nWi hosened feet, wi shaven face,\\nWi dacent mainners:\\nA grand example to the race\\nO tautit sinners!\\nThe wind may blaw, the heathen rage.\\nThe deil may start on the rampage;\\nThe sick in bed, the thief in cage\\nWhat s a to me?", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0407.jp2"}, "406": {"fulltext": "368 LATE IN THE NICHT.\\nCosh in my house, a sober sage,\\nI sit an see.\\nAn whiles the bluid spangs to my bree,\\nTo lie sae saft, to live sae free,\\nWhile better men maun do an die\\nIn unco places.\\nWhaur s God? I cry, an IVhae is me\\nTo hae sic graces\\nI mind the fecht the sailors keep.\\nBut fire or can le, rest or sleep.\\nIn darkness an the muckle deep;\\nAn mind beside\\nThe herd that on the hills o sheep\\nHas wandered wide.\\nI mind me on the hoastin weans\\nThe penny joes on causey stanes\\nThe auld folk wi the crazy banes,\\nBaith auld an puir.\\nThat aye maun thole the winds an rains\\nAn labour sair.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0408.jp2"}, "407": {"fulltext": "LATE IN THE NICHT. 309\\nAn whiles I m kind o pleased a blink,\\nAn kind o fleyed forby, to think,\\nFor a my rowth o meat an drink\\nAn waste o crumb,\\nI 11 mebbe have to thole wi skink\\nIn Kingdom Come.\\nFor God whan jowes the Judgment bell,\\nWi His ain Hand, His Leevin Sel\\nSail ryve the guid (as Prophets tell)\\nFrae them that had it;\\nAnd in the reamin pat o hell,\\nThe rich be scaddit.\\nO Lord, if this indeed be sae,\\nLet daw that sair an happy day!\\nAgain the warl, grawn auld an gray,\\nUp wi your aixe\\nAn let the puir enjoy their play\\nI 11 thole my paiks.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0409.jp2"}, "408": {"fulltext": "XIV.\\nMY CONSCIENCE!\\nOf a the ills that flesh can fear,\\nThe loss o frien s, the lack o gear,\\nA yowl in tyke, a glandered mear,\\nA lassie s nonsense\\nThere s just ae thing I cannae bear.\\nAn that s my conscience.\\nWhan day (an a excuse) has gane,\\nAn wark is diine, an duty s plain,\\nAn to my chalmer a my lane\\nI creep apairt,\\nMy conscience hoo the yammerin pain\\nStends to my heart\\nA day wi various ends in view\\nThe hairsts o time I had to pu\\nAn made a hash wad staw a soo,\\nLet be a man\\n370", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0410.jp2"}, "409": {"fulltext": "MY CONSCIENCE! 371\\nMy conscience! whan my ban s were fii\\nWhaur were ye than?\\nAn there were a the lures o life,\\nThere pleesure skirlin on the fife,\\nThere anger, wi the hotchin knife\\nGround shairp in hell\\nMy conscience! you that s like a wife!\\nWhaur was yoursel\\nI ken it fine: just waitin here,\\nTo gar the evil waur appear.\\nTo clart the guid, confuse the clear,\\nMis-ca the great.\\nMy conscience an to raise a steer\\nWhan a s ower late.\\nSic-like, some tyke grawn auld and blind,\\nWhan thieves brok through the gear to p ind,\\nHas lain his dozened length an grinned\\nAt the disaster;\\nAn the morn s mornin wud s the wind.\\nYokes on his master.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0411.jp2"}, "410": {"fulltext": "XV.\\nTO DOCTOR JOHN BROWN.\\n(Whan the dear doctor, dear to a\\\\\\nWas still aiiiang us here belaiu,\\nJ seb my pipes his praise to blaw\\nWi a my speerit\\nBut noo, Dear Doctor, he s awa\\\\\\nAn ne^er can hear it.)\\nBy Lyne and Tyne, by Thames and Tees,\\nBy a the various river-Dee s,\\nIn Mars and Manors yont the seas\\nOr here at hame,\\nWhaure er there s kindly folk to please,\\nThey ken your name.\\nThey ken your name, they ken your tyke,\\nThey ken the honey from your byke;\\nBut mebbe after a your fyke,\\n(The truth to tell)\\n372", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0412.jp2"}, "411": {"fulltext": "TO DOCTOR JOHN BROWN. 373\\nIt s just your honest Rab they like,\\nAn no yoursel\\nAs at the gowff, some canny play r\\nShould tee a common ba wi care\\nShould flourish and deleever fair\\nHis souple shintie\\nAn the ba rise into the air,\\nA leevin Untie:\\nSae in the game we writers play,\\nThere comes to some a bonny day,\\nWhen a dear ferlie shall repay\\nTheir years o strife.\\nAn like your Rab, their things o clay,\\nSpreid wings o life.\\nYe scarce deserved it, I m afraid\\nYou that had never learned the trade.\\nBut just some idle mornin strayed\\nInto the schiile,\\nAn picked the fiddle up an played\\nLike Neil himsel", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0413.jp2"}, "412": {"fulltext": "374 TO DOCTOR JOHN BROIVN.\\nYour e e was gleg, your fingers dink;\\nYe didna fash yoursel to think,\\nBut wove, as fast as puss can link,\\nYour denty wab\\nYe stapped your pen into the ink^\\nAn there was Rab!\\nSinsyne, whaure er your fortune lay\\nBy dowie den, by canty brae.\\nSimmer an winter, nicht an day,\\nRab was aye wi ye;\\nAn a the folk on a the way\\nWere blithe to see ye.\\nO sir, the gods are kind indeed,\\nAn hauld ye for an honoured heid,\\nThat for a wee bit clarkit screed\\nSae weel reward ye,\\nAn lend puir Rabbie bein deid\\nHis ghaist to guard ye.\\nFor though, whaure er yoursel may be,\\nWe ve just to turn an glisk a wee,\\nAn Rab at heel we re shiire to see\\nWi gladsome caper:\\n7o^", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0414.jp2"}, "413": {"fulltext": "1 he bogle of a bogle, he\\nA ghaist o paper!\\nAnd as the aiild farrand hero sees\\nIn hell a bogle Hercules,\\nPit there the lesser deid to please,\\nWhile he himsel\\nDwalls wi the muckle gods at ease\\nFar raised frae hell:\\nSae the true Rabbie far has gane\\nOn kindlier business o his ain\\nWi aulder frien s; an his breist-bane\\nAn stumpie tailie.\\nHe birstles at a new hearth stane\\nBy James and Ailie.", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0415.jp2"}, "414": {"fulltext": "XVI.\\nr s an owercome sooth for age an youth\\nAnd it brooks wi nae denial,\\nlat the dearest friends are the auldest friends\\n^nd the young are just on trial.\\nre s a rival bauld wi young an auld\\nnd it s him that has bereft me;\\nthe surest friends are the auldest friends\\nid the maist o mine hae left me.\\nare kind hearts still, for friends to fill\\nI fools to take and break them;\\ne nearest friends are the auldest friends\\nthe grave s the place to seek them.\\nn^\\nV\\n876", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0416.jp2"}, "415": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0417.jp2"}, "416": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0418.jp2"}, "417": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0419.jp2"}, "418": {"fulltext": "A\\n.^v", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0420.jp2"}, "419": {"fulltext": ".0 0,\\nK\\no\\nvOO.\\nV", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0421.jp2"}, "420": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3030", "width": "1777", "jp2-path": "poemsofrobertlou00stev_0422.jp2"}}