A Child's Garden of Verses by Robert Louis Stevenson

We finished this edition of A Child's Garden of Verses illustrated by Gyo Fujikawa.

It contains such sweet illustrations, and of course the poems themselves are classic!

I could not keep from crying through the reading aloud of "To Minnie."

It was just so poignant!

To Minnie 

The red room with the giant bed
  Where none but elders laid their head;
  The little room where you and I
  Did for awhile together lie
  And, simple suitor, I your hand
  In decent marriage did demand;
  The great day nursery, best of all,
  With pictures pasted on the wall
  And leaves upon the blind--
  A pleasant room wherein to wake
  And hear the leafy garden shake
  And rustle in the wind--
  And pleasant there to lie in bed
  And see the pictures overhead--
  The wars about Sebastopol,
  The grinning guns along the wall,
  The daring escalade,
  The plunging ships, the bleating sheep,
  The happy children ankle-deep
  And laughing as they wade:
  All these are vanished clean away,
  And the old manse is changed to-day;
  It wears an altered face
  And shields a stranger race.
  The river, on from mill to mill,
  Flows past our childhood’s garden still;
  But ah! we children never more
  Shall watch it from the water-door!
  Below the yew--it still is there--
  Our phantom voices haunt the air
  As we were still at play,
  And I can hear them call and say:
  "How far is it to Babylon?"
  Ah, far enough, my dear,
  Far, far enough from here--
  Yet you have farther gone!
  "Can I get there by candlelight?"
  So goes the old refrain.
  I do not know--perchance you might--
  But only, children, hear it right,
  Ah, never to return again!
  The eternal dawn, beyond a doubt,
  Shall break on hill and plain,
  And put all stars and candles out  Ere we be young again.
  To you in distant India, these
  I send across the seas,
  Nor count it far across.
  For which of us forgets
  The Indian cabinets,
  The bones of antelope, the wings of albatross,
  The pied and painted birds and beans,
  The junks and bangles, beads and screens,
  The gods and sacred bells,
  And the loud-humming, twisted shells!
  The level of the parlour floor
  Was honest, homely, Scottish shore;
  But when we climbed upon a chair,
  Behold the gorgeous East was there!
  Be this a fable; and behold
  Me in the parlour as of old,
  And Minnie just above me set
  In the quaint Indian cabinet!
  Smiling and kind, you grace a shelf
  Too high for me to reach myself.
  Reach down a hand, my dear, and take
  These rhymes for old acquaintance’ sake!

(Taken from here)

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