R. L. Stevenson's Poetry - A Tribute on his Birthday

R. L. Stevenson, the famous Scottish novelist, poet, essayist and travel writer, was born on November 13 in the year 1850. Although wrote many short stories, poems, travalogues, novels, he is especially known for his novels: ‘Treasure Island’ (1883) and ‘The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde’(1886). Among other famous novels are ‘Kidnapped’ (1886) and Master Of Ballantrae (1889).
The aim of this post is to highlight the poetic masterpieces that have been created by Stevenson. We have all read much about his novels especially, the most about ‘Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde’. (I had written a post earlier about it: ‘The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde’
I would like to share one of his poems here for my readers:
As from the house your mother seesYou playing round the garden trees,So you may see, if you will lookThrough the windows of this book,Another child, far, far away,And in another garden, play.But do not think you can at all,By knocking on the window, callThat child to hear you. He intentIs all on his play-business bent.He does not hear, he will not look,Nor yet be lured out of this book.For, long ago, the truth to say,He has grown up and gone away,And it is but a child of airThat lingers in the garden there.
Robert Louis Stevenson

Among his more famous poems is ‘Requeim’ that was published in his collection of poems called ‘Underwoods’

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 long'd to be;
Home is the sailor, home from the sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.

R. L. Stevenson died on December 3, 1894, which left his last writing ‘Weir of Hermiston’ unfinished. It was later on published in 1896.

This is what we can in the end (in Stevenson’s own words):

Leave not, my soul, the unfoughten field, nor leave
Thy debts dishonoured, nor thy place desert
Without due service rendered. For thy life,
Up, spirit, and defend that fort of clay,
Thy body, now beleaguered; whether soon
Or late she fall; whether to-day thy friends
Bewail thee dead, or, after years, a man
Grown old in honour and the friend of peace.
Contend, my soul, for moments and for hours;
Each is with service pregnant; each reclaimed
Is as a kingdom conquered, where to reign.