A Childs Garden of Verses

      AChilds Garden of VersesbyRobert Louis StevensonTo Alison CunninghamFrom Her BoyFor the long nights you lay awakeAnd watched for my unworthy sake:For your most comfortable handThat led me through the uneven land:For all the story-books you read:For all the pains you comforted:For all you pitied, all you bore,In sad and happy days of yore:--My second Mother, my first Wife,The angel of my infant life--From the sick child, now well and old,Take, nurse, thelittlebookyouhold!And grant it, Heaven, that all who readMay find as dear a nurse at need,And every child who lists my rhyme,In the bright, fireside, nursery clime,May hear it in as kind a voiceAs made my childish days rejoice! R. L. S.