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 atall.
He hasn"t any 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.
- R.L. SteVenson
About the Author.-Robert Louis SteVenson(1850-1894) wrote poems, essays, short stories, and longer stories. He was very fond of writing for children. His Child"s Garden of Verses is a charming study of the fancies that come to very little boys, while Treasure Island is a stirring tale that big boys like. Born in Edinburgh, he visited Australia, and he passed the last years of his life in Samoa, and died there. No modern writer is better loved than Robert Louis Stevenson.
About the Poem.-When does one"s shadow shoot up tall? When does it shrink to nothing? Why did the boy have no shadow in the early, dewy morning? Do you know a story about a boy who lost his shadow?
