First published in 1885, Stevenson's verses so truly reflect the feelings of young children--about being small, the bliss of going up in a swing so high, discovering one's shadow, happiness and sorrow and dreaming--that they have never ceased to be an essential part of a child's library. Robinson's beautiful pictures originally appeared in 1896 in the first illustrated edition.
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First published in 1885, Stevenson's verses so truly reflect the feelings of young children--about being small, the bliss of going up in a swing so high, discovering one's shadow, happiness and sorrow and dreaming--that they have never ceased to be an essential part of a child's library. Robinson's beautiful pictures originally appeared in 1896 in the first illustrated edition.
About the Author
Throughout his life, Robert Louis Balfour Stevenson was tormented by poor health. Yet despite frequent physical collapses—mainly due to constant respiratory illness—he was an indefatigable writer of novels, poems, essays, letters, travel books, and children’s books. He was born on November 13, 1850, in Edinburgh, of a prosperous family of lighthouse engineers. Though he was expected to enter the family profession, he studied instead for the Scottish bar. By the time he was called to the bar, however, he had already begun writing seriously, and he never actually practiced law. In 1880, against his family’s wishes, he married an American divorcée, Fanny Vandegrift Osbourne, who was ten years his senior; but the family was soon reconciled to the match, and the marriage proved a happy one.
All his life Stevenson traveled–often in a desperate quest for health. He and Fanny, having married in California and spent their honeymoon by an abandoned silver mine, traveled back to Scotland, then to Switzerland, to the South of France, to the American Adirondacks, and finally to the south of France, to the South Seas. As a novelist he was intrigued with the genius of place: Treasure Island (1883) began as a map to amuse a boy. Indeed, all his works reveal a profound sense of landscape and atmosphere: Kidnapped (1886); The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1886); The Master of Ballantrae (1889).
In 1889 Stevenson’s deteriorating health exiled him to the tropics, and he settled in Samoa, where he was given patriarchal status by the natives. His health improved, yet he remained homesick for Scotland, and it was to the “cold old huddle of grey hills” of the Lowlands that he returned in his last, unfinished masterpiece, Weir of Hermiston (1896).
Stevenson dies suddenly on December 3, 1894, not of the long-feared tuberculosis, but of a cerebral hemorrhage. The kindly author of Jekyll and Hyde went down to the cellar to fetch a bottle of his favorite burgundy, uncorked it in the kitchen, abruptly cried out to his wife, “What’s the matter with me, what is this strangeness, has my face changed?”—and fell to the floor. The brilliant storyteller and master of transformations had been struck down at forty-four, at the height of his creative powers.
All his life Stevenson traveled–often in a desperate quest for health. He and Fanny, having married in California and spent their honeymoon by an abandoned silver mine, traveled back to Scotland, then to Switzerland, to the South of France, to the American Adirondacks, and finally to the south of France, to the South Seas. As a novelist he was intrigued with the genius of place: Treasure Island (1883) began as a map to amuse a boy. Indeed, all his works reveal a profound sense of landscape and atmosphere: Kidnapped (1886); The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1886); The Master of Ballantrae (1889).
In 1889 Stevenson’s deteriorating health exiled him to the tropics, and he settled in Samoa, where he was given patriarchal status by the natives. His health improved, yet he remained homesick for Scotland, and it was to the “cold old huddle of grey hills” of the Lowlands that he returned in his last, unfinished masterpiece, Weir of Hermiston (1896).
Stevenson dies suddenly on December 3, 1894, not of the long-feared tuberculosis, but of a cerebral hemorrhage. The kindly author of Jekyll and Hyde went down to the cellar to fetch a bottle of his favorite burgundy, uncorked it in the kitchen, abruptly cried out to his wife, “What’s the matter with me, what is this strangeness, has my face changed?”—and fell to the floor. The brilliant storyteller and master of transformations had been struck down at forty-four, at the height of his creative powers.
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Most Helpful Customer Reviews
7 of 7 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
such simple poems have such a remarkable beauty.,
By A Customer
This review is from: A Child's Garden of Verses (Golden Classics) (Hardcover)
Robert Lewis Stevenson has a way of making children smile, and adults follow right behind. The words so eloquently put together bring to life the thoughts of young children.
6 of 6 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
A True Treasure found,
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This review is from: A Child's Garden of Verses (Golden Classics) (Hardcover)
Imagine my happiness when I found a copy of the book that night after night my mother had read to me as a child in the late 50s and early 60s - My copy had long fallen apart but this was the correct edition and as I opened the pages the illustrations welcomed me like old friends. I got the flu and my husband kindly read the entire book to me and then next time my Mom came to visit I read a few to her and watched her smile. Expose a child to this book and they will develop a love of poetry, the whimiscal and when you watch Rocky and Bullwinkle next time you will know where Bullwinkle gets all the poems that he recites !
3 of 3 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
A favorite book,
By
This review is from: A Child's Garden of Verses (Golden Classics) (Hardcover)
I was skeptical that he'd like this book when he found it,believing my 2 year old was a bit young for poetry beyond Dr. Seuss. But he loves the sound and rhythm of the words as well as the pictures in my old Golden Book edition, and asks for it nearly every day now. For myself it's a nice change from the usual kids books.
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