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IHAVEa 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 nurse 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.
— R. L. STEVENSON