Today’s Poem: My Shadow
Robert Louis Stevenson has a little shadow
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My Shadow
by Robert Louis Stevenson
I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me, And what can be the use of him is more than I can see. He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head; And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed. The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow — Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow; For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball, And he sometimes gets so little that there’s none of him at all. He hasn’t got a notion of how children ought to play, And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way. He stays so close beside me, he’s a coward, you can see; I’d think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me! One morning, very early, before the sun was up, I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup; But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head, Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed. ══════════════════════════
Robert Louis Stevenson (1850–1894), we once suggested here at Poems Ancient and Modern, is the bridge between two worlds: the comic nonsense and sentimental poetry of the mid-Victorians, and the sardonic and clever children’s verse of the Edwardians. In some ways, in certain weathers, I find myself thinking he was the best of them both.
