01

THE LAND OF STORY BOOKS

At evening when the lamp is lit,

Around the fire my parents sit;

They sit at home and talk and sing,

And do not play at anything.

Now with my little gun I crawl,

All in the dark, along the wall,

And follow round the forest track

Away behind the sofa back.

There in the night, where none can spy,

All in my hunter's camp I lie,

And play at books that I have read,

Till it is time to go to bed.

So, when my nurse comes in for me,

Home I return across the sea,

And go to bed with backward looks

At my dear Land of Story Books.

— ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON