 Poetry: September 14, 2005 Issue [#590] |
  Poetry
This week: Robert Louis Stevenson Edited by: Stormy Lady  
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| This is poetry from the minds and the hearts of poets on Writing.Com. The poems I am going to be exposing throughout this newsletter are ones that I have found to be, very visual, mood setting and uniquely done. Stormy Lady |
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About The Sheltered Garden Ground
by Robert Louis Stevenson
About the sheltered garden ground
The trees stand strangely still.
The vale ne'er seemed so deep before,
Nor yet so high the hill.
An awful sense of quietness,
A fulness of repose,
Breathes from the dewy garden-lawns,
The silent garden rows.
As the hoof-beats of a troop of horse
Heard far across a plain,
A nearer knowledge of great thoughts
Thrills vaguely through my brain.
I lean my head upon my arm,
My heart's too full to think;
Like the roar of seas, upon my heart
Doth the morning stillness sink.
Thomas and Margaret Isabella Balfour Stevenson welcomed their only son Robert Louis Stevenson into their family on November 13, 1850. The Stevensons lived in Edinburgh. Stevenson was a sick child from the beginning and was diagnosed with tuberculosis as a child. Stevenson was attended to by a nurse named Alison Cunningham for most of his childhood. She read to him all the time and filled his head with morbid stories and Bible stories, and the Psalms. Stevenson's first attempt at writing was retelling Bible stories: "A History of Moses" was then followed by "The Book of Joseph."
In November 1867 Stevenson entered Edinburgh University to study engineering. When Stevenson told his father he no longer want to follow in his footsteps and become and engineer, that he wanted to become a writer, his father insisted he study law. Stevenson changed his major to law and in 1875, he received a law degree he barely used. During his college years Stevenson spent his time learning how to write.
Stevenson devoted himself to his writing once he graduated from Edinburgh University. In 1877 "An Old Song," a short story, was published in the weekly London. 1878, An Inland Voyage was published as an account of his traveling in France. Stevenson moved to California in 1879 to be with Fanny Van de Grift Osbourne, a married woman, ten years his senior. After Fanny Osbourne's divorce the two married on May 19, 1800. After a brief stay at Calistoga, which was recorded in "The Silverado Squatters" in 1883, they returned to Scotland, and then moved often in search of better climates.
"Treasure Island," which appeared in 1883, made Stevenson famous. Other famous works followed over the next four year "Kidnapped" in 1886, "The Strange Case Of Dr. Jekyll And Mr. Hyde" in 1886 and "The Master Of Ballantrae" in 1889. During this time he also wrote several periodicals, published in The Cornhill Magazine and Longman's Magazine, he well-known article "A Humble Remonstrance" was published in 1884. From 1889 to 1894 Stevenson wrote "The Wrecker" in 1892, and a collaboration with Lloyd Osbourne; "Island Nights' Entertainments" in 1893. Then "The Beach of Falesá," "The Bottle Imp," and "The Isle of Voices"; and The Ebb-Tide all published in 1894.
Stevenson died of a stroke on December 3, 1894, in Vailima, Samoa. At the time of his death Stevenson was at the top of his creative powers. He had two unfinished novels-St. Ives, and Weir of Hermiston. Stevenson also had "Records of a Family of Engineers," which he had gathered information about and started. Stevenson was buried at top of Mt. Vaea.
Fear Not, Dear Friend, But Freely Live Your Days
by Robert Louis Stevenson
Fear not, dear friend, but freely live your days
Though lesser lives should suffer. Such am I,
A lesser life, that what is his of sky
Gladly would give for you, and what of praise.
Step, without trouble, down the sunlit ways.
We that have touched your raiment, are made whole
From all the selfish cankers of man's soul,
And we would see you happy, dear, or die.
Therefore be brave, and therefore, dear, be free;
Try all things resolutely, till the best,
Out of all lesser betters, you shall find;
And we, who have learned greatness from you, we,
Your lovers, with a still, contented mind,
See you well anchored in some port of rest.
I Dreamed Of Forest Alleys fair
by Robert Louis Stevenson
I.
I dreamed of forest alleys fair
And fields of gray-flowered grass,
Where by the yellow summer moon
My Jenny seemed to pass.
I dreamed the yellow summer moon,
Behind a cedar wood,
Lay white on fields of rippling grass
Where I and Jenny stood.
I dreamed - but fallen through my dream,
In a rainy land I lie
Where wan wet morning crowns the hills
Of grim reality.
II.
I am as one that keeps awake
All night in the month of June,
That lies awake in bed to watch
The trees and great white moon.
For memories of love are more
Than the white moon there above,
And dearer than quiet moonshine
Are the thoughts of her I love.
III.
Last night I lingered long without
My last of loves to see.
Alas! the moon-white window-panes
Stared blindly back on me.
To-day I hold her very hand,
Her very waist embrace -
Like clouds across a pool, I read
Her thoughts upon her face.
And yet, as now, through her clear eyes
I seek the inner shrine -
I stoop to read her virgin heart
In doubt if it be mine -
O looking long and fondly thus,
What vision should I see?
No vision, but my own white face
That grins and mimics me.
IV.
Once more upon the same old seat
In the same sunshiny weather,
The elm-trees' shadows at their feet
And foliage move together.
The shadows shift upon the grass,
The dial point creeps on;
The clear sun shines, the loiterers pass,
As then they passed and shone.
But now deep sleep is on my heart,
Deep sleep and perfect rest.
Hope's flutterings now disturb no more
The quiet of my breast.
Requiem
by Robert Louis Stevenson
Under the wide and starry sky
Dig the grave and let me lie.
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.
This be the verse you grave for me;
Here he lies where he longed to be,
Home is the sailor, home from sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.
Thank you all!
Stormy Lady
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Submitted By: kelcy21
Submitted Comment:
stormy lady gone I just wanted to say thanks for this letter on poetry it really touched me and its nice to know a lot of poets have deep sorrow I liked the choice of poems you picked to put on here this week so thanks again kel
I find myself lost in emotional poems all the time. I am glad you liked the ones I picked for this newsletter.
Stormy
Submitted By: sharonbythesea
Submitted Comment:
Stormy Lady: I immediately sat down and read the entire newsletter (slow day at work). What a great edition. I always appreciate your hallmark touch on all you do.
Sharon, I am glad you enjoyed them.  Maybe I should look inot getting paid from hallmark
Stormy
Submitted By: Vivian 
Submitted Comment:
Thank you, Stormy, for covering three of my favorite poets. ~~ Viv
Well Viv, great minds think alike.
Stormy |
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