My Shadow
I
have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And
what can be the use of it 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 the 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
No comments:
Post a Comment