A Child's Garden of Verses by Robert Louis Stevenson To Alison Cunningham From Her Boy For the long nights you lay awake And watched for my unworthy sake;
For your most comfortable hand That led me through the uneven land;
For all the story-books you read;
For all the pains you comforted;
For all you pitied,all you bore,In sad and happy days of yore;
My second Mother,my first Wife,The angel of my infant life;
From the sick child,now well and old,Take,nurse,the little book you hold!
And grant it,Heaven,that all who read May find as dear a nurse at need,And every child who lists my rhyme,In the bright,fireside,nursery clime,May hear it in as kind a voice As made my childish days rejoice!
R.L.S.
