On about poetry again

Apologies in advance, friends! Remember in the Down Days ebook when I was bashing on about poetry? I thought I’d share a poem that touched me the other day. I don’t know what Stephenson was thinking when he wrote this poem, but it means something to me. I think it might mean something for you, too. Here you go…

Image result for robert louis stevenson
They say that his genius flowed from his moustache to the page in little inky showers

My Shadow by Robert Louis Stephenson

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 at all.

He hasn’t got a 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.

Source: The Golden Book of Poetry (1947)

Thanks for reading.



  1. Fabulous. I have my shifting little shadow. She comes out small and playful when I’m out in nature and I welcome her with such peace. But, while at home, she grows heavy and is so hard to bare.

    Liked by 1 person

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