Bed in Summer
by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON (1850-1894)
In winter I get up at night
And dress by yellow candle-light.
In summer quite the other way,
I have to go to bed by day.
I have to go to bed and see
The birds still hopping on the tree,
Or hear the grown-up people’s feet
Still going past me in the street.
And does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play,
To have to go to bed by day?
“The most influential books, and the truest in their influence, are works of fiction. They do not pin the reader to a dogma, which he must afterwards discover to be inexact; they do not teach him a lesson, which he must afterwards unlearn…. they show us the web of experience, not as we can see it for ourselves, but with a singular change— that monstrous, consuming ego of ours being, for the nonce, struck out.” ~ R.L. Stevenson