查看完整版本: 一位孩子的诗园A Child's Garden of Verses

一位孩子的诗园A Child's Garden of Verses

作者--史蒂文斯
I    Bed in Summer
In winter I get up at night And dress by yellow candle-light. In
summer quite the other way, I have to go to bed by day.
I have to go to bed and see The birds still hopping on the tree, Or hear
the grown-up people's feet Still going past me in the street.
And does it not seem hard to you, When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play, To have to go to bed by day?

[[i] 本帖最后由 ououmama 于 2012-3-20 13:03 编辑 [/i]].

II A Thought

It is very nice to think The world is full of meat and drink, With little
children saying grace In every Christian kind of place..

III At the Sea-side

When I was down beside the sea A wooden spade they gave to me To
dig the sandy shore.
My holes were empty like a cup. In every hole the sea came up, Till it
could come no more..

IV Young Night-Thought

All night long and every night, When my mama puts out the light, I
see the people marching by, As plain as day before my eye.
Armies and emperor and kings, All carrying different kinds of things,
And marching in so grand a way, You never saw the like by day.
So fine a show was never seen At the great circus on the green; For
every kind of beast and man Is marching in that caravan.
As first they move a little slow, But still the faster on they go, And still
beside me close I keep Until we reach the town of Sleep..

V Whole Duty of Children

A child should always say what's true And speak when he is spoken to,
And behave mannerly at table; At least as far as he is able..

VI Rain

The rain is falling all around,
It falls on field and tree,
It rains on the
umbrellas here,
And on the ships at sea..

VII Pirate Story

Three of us afloat in the meadow by the swing, Three of us abroad in
the basket on the lea. Winds are in the air, they are blowing in the spring,
And waves are on the meadow like the waves there are at sea.
Where shall we adventure, to-day that we're afloat, Wary of the
weather and steering by a star? Shall it be to Africa, a-steering of the boat,
To Providence, or Babylon or off to Malabar?
Hi! but here's a squadron a-rowing on the sea-- Cattle on the meadow
a-charging with a roar! Quick, and we'll escape them, they're as mad as
they can be, The wicket is the harbour and the garden is the shore..

VIII Foreign Lands

Up into the cherry tree Who should climb but little me? I held the
trunk with both my hands And looked abroad in foreign lands.
I saw the next door garden lie, Adorned with flowers, before my eye,
And many pleasant places more That I had never seen before.
I saw the dimpling river pass And be the sky's blue looking-glass; The
dusty roads go up and down With people tramping in to town.
If I could find a higher tree Farther and farther I should see, To where
the grown-up river slips Into the sea among the ships,
To where the road on either hand Lead onward into fairy land, Where
all the children dine at five, And all the playthings come alive..

IX Windy Nights

Whenever the moon and stars are set, Whenever the wind is high, All
night long in the dark and wet, A man goes riding by. Late in the night
when the fires are out, Why does he gallop and gallop about?
Whenever the trees are crying aloud, And ships are tossed at sea, By,
on the highway, low and loud, By at the gallop goes he. By at the gallop
he goes, and then By he comes back at the gallop again..

X Travel

I should like to rise and go Where the golden apples grow;-- Where
below another sky Parrot islands anchored lie, And, watched by cockatoos
and goats, Lonely Crusoes building boats;-- Where in sunshine reaching
out Eastern cities, miles about, Are with mosque and minaret Among
sandy gardens set, And the rich goods from near and far Hang for sale in
the bazaar;-- Where the Great Wall round China goes, And on one side the
desert blows, And with the voice and bell and drum, Cities on the other
hum;-- Where are forests hot as fire, Wide as England, tall as a spire, Full
of apes and cocoa-nuts And the negro hunters' huts;-- Where the knotty
crocodile Lies and blinks in the Nile, And the red flamingo flies Hunting
fish before his eyes;-- Where in jungles near and far, Man-devouring tigers
are, Lying close and giving ear Lest the hunt be drawing near, Or a comerby
be seen Swinging in the palanquin;-- Where among the desert sands
Some deserted city stands, All its children, sweep and prince, Grown to
manhood ages since, Not a foot in street or house, Not a stir of child or
mouse, And when kindly falls the night, In all the town no spark of light.
There I'll come when I'm a man With a camel caravan; Light a fire in the
gloom Of some dusty dining-room; See the pictures on the walls, Heroes
fights and festivals; And in a corner find the toys Of the old Egyptian
boys..

XI Singing

Of speckled eggs the birdie sings And nests among the trees; The
sailor sings of ropes and things In ships upon the seas.
The children sing in far Japan, The children sing in Spain; The organ
with the organ man Is singing in the rain..

XII Looking Forward

When I am grown to man's estate I shall be very proud and great, And
tell the other girls and boys Not to meddle with my toys..

XIII A Good Play

We built a ship upon the stairs All made of the back-bedroom chairs,
And filled it full of soft pillows To go a-sailing on the billows.
We took a saw and several nails, And water in the nursery pails; And
Tom said, "Let us also take An apple and a slice of cake;"-- Which was
enough for Tom and me To go a-sailing on, till tea.
We sailed along for days and days, And had the very best of plays; But
Tom fell out and hurt his knee, So there was no one left but me..

XIV Where Go the Boats?

Dark brown is the river, Golden is the sand. It flows along for ever,
With trees on either hand.
Green leaves a-floating, Castles of the foam, Boats of mine a-boating--
Where will all come home?
On goes the river And out past the mill, Away down the valley, Away
down the hill.
Away down the river, A hundred miles or more, Other little children
Shall bring my boats ashore..

XVI The Land of Counterpane

When I was sick and lay a-bed, I had two pillows at my head, And all
my toys beside me lay, To keep me happy all the day.
And sometimes for an hour or so I watched my leaden soldiers go,
With different uniforms and drills, Among the bed-clothes, through the
hills;
And sometimes sent my ships in fleets All up and down among the
sheets; Or brought my trees and houses out, And planted cities all about.
I was the giant great and still That sits upon the pillow-hill, And sees
before him, dale and plain, The pleasant land of counterpane..

XVII The Land of Nod

From breakfast on through all the day At home among my friends I
stay, But every night I go abroad Afar into the land of Nod.
All by myself I have to go, With none to tell me what to do-- All alone
beside the streams And up the mountain-sides of dreams.
The strangest things are these for me, Both things to eat and things to
see, And many frightening sights abroad Till morning in the land of Nod.
Try as I like to find the way, I never can get back by day, Nor can
remember plain and clear The curious music that I hear..

XVIII My Shadow

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 goes 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 behind 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..

XIX System

Every night my prayers I say, And get my dinner every day; And every
day that I've been good, I get an orange after food.
The child that is not clean and neat, With lots of toys and things to eat,
He is a naughty child, I'm sure-- Or else his dear papa is poor..

XX A Good Boy

I woke before the morning, I was happy all the day, I never said an
ugly word, but smiled and stuck to play.
And now at last the sun is going down behind the wood, And I am
very happy, for I know that I've been good.
My bed is waiting cool and fresh, with linen smooth and fair, And I
must be off to sleepsin-by, and not forget my prayer.
I know that, till to-morrow I shall see the sun arise, No ugly dream
shall fright my mind, no ugly sight my eyes.
But slumber hold me tightly till I waken in the dawn, And hear the
thrushes singing in the lilacs round the lawn..

XXI Escape at Bedtime

The lights from the parlour and kitchen shone out Through the blinds
and the windows and bars; And high overhead and all moving about, There were thousands of millions of stars. There ne'er were such
thousands of leaves on a tree, Nor of people in church or the Park, As the
crowds of the stars that looked down upon me, And that glittered and
winked in the dark.
The Dog, and the Plough, and the Hunter, and all, And the star of the
sailor, and Mars, These shown in the sky, and the pail by the wall Would
be half full of water and stars. They saw me at last, and they chased me
with cries, And they soon had me packed into bed; But the glory kept
shining and bright in my eyes, And the stars going round in my head..

XXII Marching Song

Bring the comb and play upon it! Marching, here we come! Willie
cocks his highland bonnet, Johnnie beats the drum.
Mary Jane commands the party, Peter leads the rear; Feet in time, alert
and hearty, Each a Grenadier!
All in the most martial manner Marching double-quick; While the
napkin, like a banner, Waves upon the stick!
Here's enough of fame and pillage, Great commander Jane! Now that
we've been round the village, Let's go home again..

XXIII The Cow

The friendly cow all red and white, I love with all my heart: She gives
me cream with all her might, To eat with apple-tart.
She wanders lowing here and there, And yet she cannot stray, All in
the pleasant open air, The pleasant light of day;
And blown by all the winds that pass And wet with all the showers,
She walks among the meadow grass And eats the meadow flowers..

XXIV Happy Thought

The world is so full of a number of things, I'm sure we should all be as
happy as kings..

XXV The Wind

I saw you toss the kites on high And blow the birds about the sky; And
all around I heard you pass, Like ladies' skirts across the grass-- O wind,
a-blowing all day long, O wind, that sings so loud a song!
I saw the different things you did, But always you yourself you hid. I
felt you push, I heard you call, I could not see yourself at all-- O wind, ablowing
all day long, O wind, that sings so loud a song!
O you that are so strong and cold, O blower, are you young or old? Are
you a beast of field and tree, Or just a stronger child than me? O wind, ablowing
all day long, O wind, that sings so loud a song!.

XXVI Keepsake Mill

Over the borders, a sin without pardon, Breaking the branches and
crawling below, Out through the breach in the wall of the garden, Down
by the banks of the river we go.
Here is a mill with the humming of thunder, Here is the weir with the
wonder of foam, Here is the sluice with the race running under--
Marvellous places, though handy to home!
Sounds of the village grow stiller and stiller, Stiller the note of the
birds on the hill; Dusty and dim are the eyes of the miller, Deaf are his
ears with the moil of the mill.
Years may go by, and the wheel in the river Wheel as it wheels for us,
children, to-day, Wheel and keep roaring and foaming for ever Long after
all of the boys are away.
Home for the Indies and home from the ocean, Heroes and soldiers we
all will come home; Still we shall find the old mill wheel in motion,
Turning and churning that river to foam.
You with the bean that I gave when we quarrelled, I with your marble
of Saturday last, Honoured and old and all gaily apparelled, Here we shall
meet and remember the past..

XXVII Good and Bad Children

Children, you are very little, And your bones are very brittle; If you
would grow great and stately, You must try to walk sedately.
You must still be bright and quiet, And content with simple diet; And
remain, through all bewild'ring, Innocent and honest children.
Happy hearts and happy faces, Happy play in grassy places-- That was
how in ancient ages, Children grew to kings and sages.
But the unkind and the unruly, And the sort who eat unduly, They must
never hope for glory-- Theirs is quite a different story!
Cruel children, crying babies, All grow up as geese and gabies, Hated,
as their age increases, By their nephews and their nieces..

XXVIII Foreign Children

Little Indian, Sioux, or Crow, Little frosty Eskimo, Little Turk or
Japanee, Oh! don't you wish that you were me?
You have seen the scarlet trees And the lions over seas; You have eaten
ostrich eggs, And turned the turtle off their legs.
Such a life is very fine, But it's not so nice as mine: You must often as
you trod, Have wearied NOT to be abroad.
You have curious things to eat, I am fed on proper meat; You must
dwell upon the foam, But I am safe and live at home. Little Indian, Sioux
or Crow, Little frosty Eskimo, Little Turk or Japanee, Oh! don't you wish
that you were me?.

XXIX The Sun Travels

The sun is not a-bed, when I At night upon my pillow lie; Still round
the earth his way he takes, And morning after morning makes.
While here at home, in shining day, We round the sunny garden play,
Each little Indian sleepy-head Is being kissed and put to bed.
And when at eve I rise form tea, Day dawns beyond the Atlantic Sea;
And all the children in the west Are getting up and being dressed..

XXX The Lamplighter

My tea is nearly ready and the sun has left the sky. It's time to take the
window to see Leerie going by; For every night at teatime and before you
take your seat, With lantern and with ladder he comes posting up the
street.
Now Tom would be a driver and Maria go to sea, And my papa's a
banker and as rich as he can be; But I, when I am stronger and can choose
what I'm to do, O Leerie, I'll go round at night and light the lamps with
you!
For we are very lucky, with a lamp before the door, And Leerie stops
to light it as he lights so many more; And oh! before you hurry by with
ladder and with light; O Leerie, see a little child and nod to him to-night!.

XXXI My Bed is a Boat

My bed is like a little boat; Nurse helps me in when I embark; She
girds me in my sailor's coat And starts me in the dark.
At night I go on board and say Good-night to all my friends on shore; I
shut my eyes and sail away And see and hear no more.
And sometimes things to bed I take, As prudent sailors have to do;
Perhaps a slice of wedding-cake, Perhaps a toy or two.
All night across the dark we steer; But when the day returns at last,
Safe in my room beside the pier, I find my vessel fast..

XXXII The Moon

The moon has a face like the
clock in the hall; She shines on thieves on the garden wall, On streets
and fields and harbour quays, And birdies asleep in the forks of the trees.
The squalling cat and the squeaking mouse, The howling dog by the
door of the house, The bat that lies in bed at noon, All love to be out by the
light of the moon.
But all of the things that belong to the day Cuddle to sleep to be out of
her way; And flowers and children close their eyes Till up in the morning
the sun shall arise..

XXXVII From a Railway Carriage

Faster than fairies, faster than witches, Bridges and houses, hedges and
ditches; And charging along like troops in a battle All through the
meadows the horses and cattle: All of the sights of the hill and the plain
Fly as thick as driving rain; And ever again, in the wink of an eye, Painted
stations whistle by. Here is a child who clambers and scrambles, All by
himself and gathering brambles; Here is a tramp who stands and gazes;
And here is the green for stringing the daisies! Here is a cart runaway in
the road Lumping along with man and load; And here is a mill, and there
is a river: Each a glimpse and gone forever!.

XXXVIII Winter-time

Late lies the wintry sun a-bed, A frosty, fiery sleepy-head; Blinks but
an hour or two; and then, A blood-red orange, sets again.
Before the stars have left the skies, At morning in the dark I rise; And
shivering in my nakedness, By the cold candle, bathe and dress.
Close by the jolly fire I sit To warm my frozen bones a bit; Or with a
reindeer-sled, explore The colder countries round the door.
When to go out, my nurse doth wrap Me in my comforter and cap; The
cold wind burns my face, and blows Its frosty pepper up my nose.
Black are my steps on silver sod; Thick blows my frosty breath abroad;
And tree and house, and hill and lake, Are frosted like a wedding cake..

XXXIX The Hayloft

Through all the pleasant meadow-side The grass grew shoulder-high,
Till the shining scythes went far and wide And cut it down to dry.
Those green and sweetly smelling crops They led the waggons home;
And they piled them here in mountain tops For mountaineers to roam.
Here is Mount Clear, Mount Rusty-Nail, Mount Eagle and Mount
High;-- The mice that in these mountains dwell, No happier are than I!
Oh, what a joy to clamber there, Oh, what a place for play, With the
sweet, the dim, the dusty air, The happy hills of hay!.

XL Farewell to the Farm

The coach is at the door
at last; The eager children, mounting fast And kissing hands, in chorus
sing: Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!
To house and garden, field and lawn, The meadow-gates we swang
upon, To pump and stable, tree and swing, Good-bye, good-bye, to
everything!
And fare you well for evermore, O ladder at the hayloft door, O
hayloft where the cobwebs cling, Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!
Crack goes the whip, and off we go; The trees and houses smaller
grow; Last, round the woody turn we sing: Good-bye, good-bye, to
everything!.

XLI North-west Passage

1. Good-night
Then the bright lamp is carried in, The sunless hours again begin; O'er
all without, in field and lane, The haunted night returns again.
Now we behold the embers flee About the firelit hearth; and see Our
faces painted as we pass, Like pictures, on the window glass.
Must we to bed indeed? Well then, Let us arise and go like men, And
face with an undaunted tread The long black passage up to bed.
Farewell, O brother, sister, sire! O pleasant party round the fire! The
songs you sing, the tales you tell, Till far to-morrow, fare you well!
2. Shadow March
All around the house is the jet-black night; It stares through the
window-pane; It crawls in the corners, hiding from the light, And it moves
with the moving flame.
Now my little heart goes a beating like a drum, With the breath of the
Bogies in my hair; And all around the candle and the crooked shadows
come, And go marching along up the stair.
The shadow of the balusters, the shadow of the lamp, The shadow of
the child that goes to bed-- All the wicked shadows coming tramp, tramp, tramp, With the black night overhead.
3. In Port
Last, to the chamber where I lie My fearful footsteps patter nigh, And
come out from the cold and gloom Into my warm and cheerful room.
There, safe arrived, we turn about To keep the coming shadows out,
And close the happy door at last On all the perils that we past.
Then, when mamma goes by to bed, She shall come in with tip-toe
tread, And see me lying warm and fast And in the land of Nod at last..

THE CHILD ALONE

I The Unseen Playmate
When children are playing alone on the green, In comes the playmate
that never was seen. When children are happy and lonely and good, The
Friend of the Children comes out of the wood.
Nobody heard him, and nobody saw, His is a picture you never could
draw, But he's sure to be present, abroad or at home, When children are
happy and playing alone.
He lies in the laurels, he runs on the grass, He sings when you tinkle
the musical glass; Whene'er you are happy and cannot tell why, The Friend
of the Children is sure to be by!
He loves to be little, he hates to be big, 'T is he that inhabits the caves
that you dig; 'T is he when you play with your soldiers of tin That sides
with the Frenchmen and never can win.
'T is he, when at night you go off to your bed, Bids you go to sleep and
not trouble your head; For wherever they're lying, in cupboard or shelf, 'T
is he will take care of your playthings himself!.

THE CHILD ALONE

II My Ship and I
O it's I that am the captain of a tidy little ship, Of a ship that goes a
sailing on the pond; And my ship it keeps a-turning all around and all
about; But when I'm a little older, I shall find the secret out How to send
my vessel sailing on beyond.
For I mean to grow a little as the dolly at the helm, And the dolly I
intend to come alive; And with him beside to help me, it's a-sailing I shall
go, It's a-sailing on the water, when the jolly breezes blow And the vessel
goes a dive-dive-dive.
O it's then you'll see me sailing through the rushes and the reeds, And
you'll hear the water singing at the prow; For beside the dolly sailor, I'm to
voyage and explore, To land upon the island where no dolly was before,
And to fire the penny cannon in the bow..

THE CHILD ALONE

III My Kingdom
Down by a shining water well I found a very little dell, No higher than
my head. The heather and the gorse about In summer bloom were coming
out, Some yellow and some red.
I called the little pool a sea; The little hills were big to me; For I am
very small. I made a boat, I made a town, I searched the caverns up and
down, And named them one and all.
And all about was mine, I said, The little sparrows overhead, The little
minnows too. This was the world and I was king; For me the bees came by
to sing, For me the swallows flew.
I played there were no deeper seas, Nor any wider plains than these,
Nor other kings than me. At last I heard my mother call Out from the
house at evenfall, To call me home to tea.
And I must rise and leave my dell, And leave my dimpled water well,
And leave my heather blooms. Alas! and as my home I neared, How very
big my nurse appeared. How great and cool the rooms!.

THE CHILD ALONE

IV Picture-books in Winter
Summer fading, winter comes-- Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs,
Window robins, winter rooks, And the picture story-books.
Water now is turned to stone Nurse and I can walk upon; Still we find
the flowing brooks In the picture story-books.
All the pretty things put by, Wait upon the children's eye, Sheep and
shepherds, trees and crooks, In the picture story-books.
We may see how all things are Seas and cities, near and far, And the
flying fairies' looks, In the picture story-books.
How am I to sing your praise, Happy chimney-corner days, Sitting
safe in nursery nooks, Reading picture story-books?.

THE CHILD ALONE

V My Treasures
These nuts, that I keep in the back of the nest, Where all my tin
soldiers are lying at rest, Were gathered in Autumn by nursie and me In a
wood with a well by the side of the sea.
This whistle we made (and how clearly it sounds!) By the side of a
field at the end of the grounds. Of a branch of a plane, with a knife of my
own, It was nursie who made it, and nursie alone!
The stone, with the white and the yellow and grey, We discovered I
cannot tell HOW far away; And I carried it back although weary and cold,
For though father denies it, I'm sure it is gold.
But of all my treasures the last is the king, For there's very few
children possess such a thing; And that is a chisel, both handle and blade,
Which a man who was really a carpenter made..

THE CHILD ALONE

VI Block City
What are you able to build with your blocks? Castles and palaces,
temples and docks. Rain may keep raining, and others go roam, But I can
be happy and building at home.
Let the sofa be mountains, the carpet be sea, There I'll establish a city
for me: A kirk and a mill and a palace beside, And a harbour as well where
my vessels may ride.
Great is the palace with pillar and wall, A sort of a tower on the top of
it all, And steps coming down in an orderly way To where my toy vessels
lie safe in the bay.
This one is sailing and that one is moored: Hark to the song of the
sailors aboard! And see, on the steps of my palace, the kings Coming and
going with presents and things!
Yet as I saw it, I see it again, The kirk and the palace, the ships and the
men, And as long as I live and where'er I may be, I'll always remember my
town by the sea..

THE CHILD ALONE

VII 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.
These are the hills, these are the woods, These are my starry solitudes;
And there the river by whose brink The roaring lions come to drink.
I see the others far away As if in firelit camp they lay, And I, like to an
Indian scout, Around their party prowled about.
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..

THE CHILD ALONE

VIII Armies in the Fire
The lamps now glitter down the street; Faintly sound the falling feet;
And the blue even slowly falls About the garden trees and walls.
Now in the falling of the gloom The red fire paints the empty room:
And warmly on the roof it looks, And flickers on the back of books.
Armies march by tower and spire Of cities blazing, in the fire;-- Till as
I gaze with staring eyes, The armies fall, the lustre dies.
Then once again the glow returns; Again the phantom city burns; And
down the red-hot valley, lo! The phantom armies marching go!
Blinking embers, tell me true Where are those armies marching to,
And what the burning city is That crumbles in your furnaces!.

THE CHILD ALONE

IX The Little Land
When at home alone I sit And am very tired of it, I have just to shut
my eyes To go sailing through the skies-- To go sailing far away To the
pleasant Land of Play; To the fairy land afar Where the Little People are;
Where the clover-tops are trees, And the rain-pools are the seas, And the
leaves, like little ships, Sail about on tiny trips; And above the Daisy tree
Through the grasses, High o'erhead the Bumble Bee Hums and passes.
In that forest to and fro I can wander, I can go; See the spider and the
fly, And the ants go marching by, Carrying parcels with their feet Down
the green and grassy street. I can in the sorrel sit Where the ladybird alit. I
can climb the jointed grass And on high See the greater swallows pass In
the sky, And the round sun rolling by Heeding no such things as I.
Through that forest I can pass Till, as in a looking-glass, Humming fly
and daisy tree And my tiny self I see, Painted very clear and neat On the
rain-pool at my feet. Should a leaflet come to land Drifting near to where I
stand, Straight I'll board that tiny boat Round the rain-pool sea to float.
Little thoughtful creatures sit On the grassy coasts of it; Little things
with lovely eyes See me sailing with surprise. Some are clad in armour
green-- (These have sure to battle been!)-- Some are pied with ev'ry hue,
Black and crimson, gold and blue; Some have wings and swift are gone;--
But they all look kindly on.
When my eyes I once again Open, and see all things plain: High bare
walls, great bare floor; Great big knobs on drawer and door; Great big
people perched on chairs, Stitching tucks and mending tears, Each a hill
that I could climb, And talking nonsense all the time-- O dear me, That I
could be A sailor on a the rain-pool sea, A climber in the clover tree, And
just come back a sleepy-head, Late at night to go to bed..

Garden Days

I Night and Day
When the golden day is done, Through the closing portal, Child and
garden, Flower and sun, Vanish all things mortal.
As the blinding shadows fall As the rays diminish, Under evening's
cloak they all Roll away and vanish.
Garden darkened, daisy shut, Child in bed, they slumber-- Glow-worm
in the hallway rut, Mice among the lumber.
In the darkness houses shine, Parents move the candles; Till on all the
night divine Turns the bedroom handles.
Till at last the day begins In the east a-breaking, In the hedges and the
whins Sleeping birds a-waking.
In the darkness shapes of things, Houses, trees and hedges, Clearer
grow; and sparrow's wings Beat on window ledges.
These shall wake the yawning maid; She the door shall open-- Finding
dew on garden glade And the morning broken.
There my garden grows again Green and rosy painted, As at eve
behind the pane From my eyes it fainted.
Just as it was shut away, Toy-like, in the even, Here I see it glow with
day Under glowing heaven.
Every path and every plot, Every blush of roses, Every blue forget-menot
Where the dew reposes,
"Up!" they cry, "the day is come On the smiling valleys: We have beat
the morning drum; Playmate, join your allies!".

Garden Days

II Nest Eggs
Birds all the summer day Flutter and quarrel Here in the arbour-like
Tent of the laurel.
Here in the fork The brown nest is seated; For little blue eggs The
mother keeps heated.
While we stand watching her Staring like gabies, Safe in each egg are
the Bird's little babies.
Soon the frail eggs they shall Chip, and upspringing Make all the April
woods Merry with singing.
Younger than we are, O children, and frailer, Soon in the blue air
they'll be, Singer and sailor.
We, so much older, Taller and stronger, We shall look down on the
Birdies no longer.
They shall go flying With musical speeches High overhead in the Tops
of the beeches.
In spite of our wisdom And sensible talking, We on our feet must go
Plodding and walking..

Garden Days

III The Flowers
All the names I know from nurse: Gardener's garters, Shepherd's purse,
Bachelor's buttons, Lady's smock, And the Lady Hollyhock.
Fairy places, fairy things, Fairy woods where the wild bee wings, Tiny
trees for tiny dames-- These must all be fairy names!
Tiny woods below whose boughs Shady fairies weave a house; Tiny
tree-tops, rose or thyme, Where the braver fairies climb!
Fair are grown-up people's trees, But the fairest woods are these;
Where, if I were not so tall, I should live for good and all..

Garden Days

IV Summer Sun
Great is the sun, and wide he goes Through empty heaven with repose;
And in the blue and glowing days More thick than rain he showers his
rays.
Though closer still the blinds we pull To keep the shady parlour cool,
Yet he will find a chink or two To slip his golden fingers through.
The dusty attic spider-clad He, through the keyhole, maketh glad; And
through the broken edge of tiles Into the laddered hay-loft smiles.
Meantime his golden face around He bares to all the garden ground, And sheds a warm and glittering look Among the ivy's inmost nook.
Above the hills, along the blue, Round the bright air with footing true,
To please the child, to paint the rose, The gardener of the World, he goes..

Garden Days

V The Dumb Soldier
When the grass was closely mown, Walking on the lawn alone, In the
turf a hole I found, And hid a soldier underground.
Spring and daisies came apace; Grasses hid my hiding place; Grasses
run like a green sea O'er the lawn up to my knee.
Under grass alone he lies, Looking up with leaden eyes, Scarlet coat
and pointed gun, To the stars and to the sun.
When the grass is ripe like grain, When the scythe is stoned again,
When the lawn is shaven clear, The my hole shall reappear.
I shall find him, never fear, I shall find my grenadier; But for all that's
gone and come, I shall find my soldier dumb.
He has lived, a little thing, In the grassy woods of spring; Done, if he
could tell me true, Just as I should like to do.
He has seen the starry hours And the springing of the flowers; And the
fairy things that pass In the forests of the grass.
In the silence he has heard Talking bee and ladybird, And the butterfly
has flown O'er him as he lay alone.
Not a word will he disclose, Not a word of all he knows. I must lay
him on the shelf, And make up the tale myself..

Garden Days

VI Autumn Fires
In the other gardens And all up the vale, From the autumn bonfires See
the smoke trail!
Pleasant summer over And all the summer flowers, The red fire blazes,
The grey smoke towers.
Sing a song of seasons! Something bright in all! Flowers in the
summer, Fires in the fall!.

Garden Days

VII The Gardener
The gardener does not love to talk. He makes me keep the gravel walk;
And when he puts his tools away, He locks the door and takes the key.
Away behind the currant row, Where no one else but cook may go, Far
in the plots, I see him dig, Old and serious, brown and big.
He digs the flowers, green, red, and blue, Nor wishes to be spoken to.
He digs the flowers and cuts the hay, And never seems to want to play.
Silly gardener! summer goes, And winter comes with pinching toes,
When in the garden bare and brown You must lay your barrow down.
Well now, and while the summer stays, To profit by these garden days
O how much wiser you would be To play at Indian wars with me!.

Garden Days

VIII Historical Associations
Dear Uncle Jim. this garden ground That now you smoke your pipe
around, has seen immortal actions done And valiant battles lost and won.
Here we had best on tip-toe tread, While I for safety march ahead, For
this is that enchanted ground Where all who loiter slumber sound.
Here is the sea, here is the sand, Here is the simple Shepherd's Land,
Here are the fairy hollyhocks, And there are Ali Baba's rocks. But yonder,
see! apart and high, Frozen Siberia lies; where I, With Robert Bruce
William Tell, Was bound by an enchanter's spell..

ENVOYS

ENVOYS
I To Willie and Henrietta
If two may read aright These rhymes of old delight And house and
garden play, You too, my cousins, and you only, may.
You in a garden green With me were king and queen, Were hunter,
soldier, tar, And all the thousand things that children are.
Now in the elders' seat We rest with quiet feet, And from the windowbay
We watch the children, our successors, play.
"Time was," the golden head Irrevocably said; But time which one
can bind, While flowing fast away, leaves love behind..

ENVOYS

II To My Mother
You too, my mother, read my rhymes For love of unforgotten times,
And you may chance to hear once more The little feet along the floor..

ENVOYS

III To Auntie
"Chief of our aunts"--not only I, But all your dozen of nurselings cry--
"What did the other children do? And what were childhood, wanting you?".

ENVOYS

IV To Minnie
The red room with the giant bed Where none but elders laid their head;
The little room where you and I Did for awhile together lie And, simple,
suitor, I your hand In decent marriage did demand; The great day nursery,
best of all, With pictures pasted on the wall And leaves upon the blind-- A
pleasant room wherein to wake And hear the leafy garden shake And rustle
in the wind-- And pleasant there to lie in bed And see the pictures
overhead-- The wars about Sebastopol, The grinning guns along the wall,

The daring escalade, The plunging ships, the bleating sheep, The happy
children ankle-deep And laughing as they wade: All these are vanished
clean away, And the old manse is changed to-day; It wears an altered face
And shields a stranger race. The river, on from mill to mill, Flows past our
childhood's garden still; But ah! we children never more Shall watch it
from the water-door! Below the yew--it still is there-- Our phantom voices
haunt the air As we were still at play, And I can hear them call and say:
"How far is it to Babylon?"
Ah, far enough, my dear, Far, far enough from here-- Smiling and kind,
you grace a shelf Too high for me to reach myself. Reach down a hand,
my dear, and take These rhymes for old acquaintance' sake! Yet you have
farther gone! "Can I get there by candlelight?" So goes the old refrain. I do
not know--perchance you might-- But only, children, hear it right, Ah,
never to return again! The eternal dawn, beyond a doubt, Shall break on
hill and plain, And put all stars and candles out Ere we be young again.
To you in distant India, these I send across the seas, Nor count it far
across. For which of us forget The Indian cabinets, The bones of antelope,
the wings of albatross, The pied and painted birds and beans, The junks
and bangles, beads and screens, The gods and sacred bells, And the loadhumming,
twisted shells! The level of the parlour floor Was honest,
homely, Scottish shore; But when we climbed upon a chair, Behold the
gorgeous East was there! Be this a fable; and behold Me in the parlour as
of old, And Minnie just above me set In the quaint Indian cabinet!.

ENVOYS

V To My Name-child
1
Some day soon this rhyming volume, if you learn with proper speed,
Little Louis Sanchez, will be given you to read. Then you shall discover,
that your name was printed down By the English printers, long before, in
London town.
In the great and busy city where the East and West are met, All the
little letters did the English printer set; While you thought of nothing, and
were still too young to play, Foreign people thought of you in places far away.
Ay, and when you slept, a baby, over all the English lands Other little
children took the volume in their hands; Other children questioned, in their
homes across the seas: Who was little Louis, won't you tell us, mother,
please?.

ENVOYS

V To My Name-child
2
Now that you have spelt your lesson, lay it down and go and play,
Seeking shells and seaweed on the sands of Monterey, Watching all the
mighty whalebones, lying buried by the breeze, Tiny sandpipers, and the
huge Pacific seas.
And remember in your playing, as the sea-fog rolls to you, Long ere
you could read it, how I told you what to do; And that while you thought
of no one, nearly half the world away Some one thought of Louis on the
beach of Monterey!.

ENVOYS VI To Any Reader

As from the house your mother sees You playing round the garden
trees, So you may see, if you will look Through the windows of this book,
Another child, far, far away, And in another garden, play. But do not think
you can at all, By knocking on the window, call That child to hear you. He
intent Is all on his play-business bent. He does not hear, he will not look,
Nor yet be lured out of this book. For, long ago, the truth to say, He has
grown up and gone away, And it is but a child of air That lingers in the
garden there.

[[i] 本帖最后由 ououmama 于 2012-3-19 18:38 编辑 [/i]].

一个孩子的诗园 内容简介

这是一部非常难得的儿童诗集，收录了苏格兰随笔作家、诗人、小说家、游记作家罗伯特•斯蒂文森的儿童诗。这些诗，每首都很短，文字简单，诗境却意味深长，无论中文译诗还是英文原文，都是极佳的学习诗歌写作的范本。
    在一个孩子的奇妙世界里，卧室里的床会在深夜变成一条无畏的航船，载着勇敢的小水手驶向广阔无垠的未知世界；山谷中会诞生一个小小的王国，孩子则成为幻想中国度的君主；黑夜与白昼的交替也如此神奇，仿佛一切都被时间施了魔法，变化莫测，神秘而令人着迷……
诗人以纤细的感情和敏说的笔触，精确地把握住孩子的情绪和感觉，极其逼真地再现了童年的时光。这本诗集中的孩子正如世界上所有的孩子一样，时而乖巧，时而顽皮，总是兴高采烈，但也不免偶尔情绪低迷，但他们都是那样天真而烂漫，清澈而纯净。在这本诗集中，你可以读到一个孩子的全部的向往，在孩子的幻想中，一切都能够化平常为神奇——所有这一切，也无不唤起我们对童年时光的亲切回忆，令我们不由自主地被深深触动，浸染其中。
《一个孩子的诗园》用词简洁但意境丰富，节奏清晰，声韵和谐，在英语国家几乎每家必备，被誉为儿童学习语言的“最优美的启蒙教材”。
英国《不列颠百科全书》对斯蒂文森这本儿童诗集作出了高度评价：“在英国文学中，这些儿童诗是无以伦比的。”时至今日，这本诗集已经成为世界儿童文学经典名作。

[[i] 本帖最后由 ououmama 于 2012-3-19 17:32 编辑 [/i]].

国内的中译本

作者： (英)罗伯特 斯蒂文森
1、译者:屠岸//方谷绣 （夫妇），人民文学出版社，1982年，国内第一个版本，翻译家的精心译作，后多次再版。
屠岸后来写道---斯蒂文森的儿童诗集《一个孩子的诗园》中有一首诗：《点灯的人》。１９８４年１０月我访问英国，在爱丁堡的一次出版界集会上，我把我和方谷绣合译的《一个孩子的诗园》中文本（１９８２年人民文学出版社第１版）送给英国朋友们。座中一位Ｍ女士翻阅这本书，她不懂中文，但可以观赏书中的插图。她一眼就看中了缪印堂画的一幅，知道是《点灯的人》。她说她非常喜欢这首诗，称赞这幅插图好，画出了那个时代的气氛。她告诉我，那盏街灯现在还原封不动地竖立在这个城市的斯蒂文森故居门外。很遗憾，我来不及去看那盏灯，因为这次访英日程太紧了。２００１年我应邀赴英国讲学，时间充裕，９月，偕女儿再访爱丁堡。在爱丁堡的苏格兰三作家（彭斯、司各特、斯蒂文森）纪念馆里，我见到展柜中有《一个孩子的诗园》１８８５年初版本，正好翻开在《点灯的人》这一页。同时，在玻璃柜内灯光照射下，另一件展品是《点灯的人》的字体放大了的诗节，正吸引着来访者。我随即把它拍摄了下来。斯蒂文森的诗作很多，为什么突出《点灯的人》？我思考着，走出了纪念馆。我和女儿找到了海略罗大街１７号，门上有铜牌：“斯蒂文森故居”。可惜不能进去，里面还有住户。这条街上有一排住宅，沿街有一盏盏街灯。１７号门外的那盏，该就是斯蒂文森儿时每天傍晚见到工人李利点燃的街灯吧。１９８４年Ｍ女士说现存的街灯是当年的原物，该不会错。这街灯形状古老，保持着十九世纪的风格，只是那时用煤油，现在改用电了。我看着这街灯，感到亲切，就在灯柱旁留影。我想像着当年斯蒂文森见到的景象：工人“李利拿着提灯和梯子走来了，把街灯点亮。”我想着，为什么苏格兰朋友们那么喜欢这首诗。诗中说：“汤姆想当驾驶员，玛利亚想航海，我爸爸是个银行家，他可以非常有钱；可是，等我长大了，让我挑选职业，李利呵，我愿意跟你巡夜，把一盏盏街灯点燃！”有人说，诗中的“我”是个资产阶级家庭的孩子，他能以平等的态度对待工人，能以亲切的感情与工人交流，而且毫无阶级偏见，表示自己将来愿意当一名工人，从事体力劳动，为社会服务，因此这首诗非常难能可贵。这也许不失为一种可以认可的观点。但我感到这首诗之所以被许多人喜爱，恐怕在于它体现了一个天真孩子的幸福观。诗中说：“只要门前有街灯，我们就很幸福，李利点亮了许多盏，又点亮一盏在我家门口……”在孩子眼里，那个点灯的工人是个光的输送者，他给一家家送来光，因而给一家家送来了幸福。孩子自己将来也要做一个送光者。光是幸福的源泉。《一个孩子的诗园》里有好些诗是歌颂光的。《黑夜和白天》歌赞晨光：“花园重新呈现出来，涂满碧绿鲜红的色彩，正如昨晚花园在窗外，消失了一样奇怪……”《炉火里的军队》赞扬火光：“朦胧的夜色正在降落，炉火把空屋涂成红色，火光把天花板照得暖和，火光在书脊上跳跃闪烁。”《夏天的太阳》称颂太阳“沿着海洋，循着山岭，绕着辉煌的蓝天运行，给玫瑰着色，教儿童高兴，他——伟大宇宙的园丁。”斯蒂文森赞美工人李利，就是赞美送光的人。这跟他赞美送光的早晨、送光的炉火、送光的太阳是一致的。在他眼里，李利就是普罗米修斯。所以，《点灯的人》也是一首“光的赞歌”。
《一个孩子的诗园》里绽放着一朵朵、一丛丛美丽的花，每一朵花都是一首优美的儿童诗。除《点灯的人》外，还有《刮风的夜》、《我的影子》、《该睡的时候溜了》、《漫游》、《照不见的游戏伴儿》……等许多令人难忘的诗篇。《不列颠百科全书》指出：“《一个孩子的诗园》中的诗，表现出一个成人在重新捕捉童年的情绪和感觉时的异乎寻常的精确性。在英国文学中，这些儿童诗是无与伦比的。”请注意这里指出的“异乎寻常的精确性”。斯蒂文森写这些诗时已３５岁。一般人到了这个年龄，早已把自己儿时的心态忘记了。斯蒂文森不同，他对儿时的情绪、思维、心态、感受有着惊人的记忆力。鲁迅说：“孩子的世界与成人截然不同。”斯蒂文森却能在成年后重新把握与成人截然不同的“孩子的世界”，而且能用优美的诗句捕捉童心，把握童心，表现童心，达到“异乎寻常的精确”程度。这，确实令人惊叹。
我们，无论是儿童读者还是成人读者，读着这些诗，都会觉得心头一亮。那么，斯蒂文森虽然没能成为“点灯的人”，却成了一个给人间送光的人。
《点灯的人》捕捉了作者儿时对点灯工人送光的心理感受，写的是现实。而儿童心态中的一个特点是想像或幻想。比如，他写游戏，把自己和玩伴想像成海上的冒险家；写睡眠，把床想像成小船，把做梦想像成远航；或者，把自己的影子幻想成一个顽童；把冬天的太阳想像成“冰冷的火球”；把被子和床单想像成山林和旷野；把炉中的炭火幻想成行进的军队；把林中草丛幻想成一个“小人国”；更有甚者，把庭院幻想成古代的战场，让自己和头脑中的历史英雄人物在一起砸断镣铐，向敌人反攻……总之，这些诗无论写现实，还是写幻想，始终紧扣着儿童的心理特征、思维方式和审美情趣，而且，写得如此美妙，读来如此悦耳，不仅吸引儿童读者，也吸引成人读者。读着这些诗，就仿佛进入了一个迷人的童心王国。因此，我深感《不列颠百科全书》对这部诗集的称赞并不是过誉。
《一个孩子的诗园》是上世纪八十年代初我和妻方谷绣合译，由人民文学出版社出版的，后来再版过几次。２００１年我把这个译本赠送给爱丁堡斯蒂文森纪念馆，该馆负责人表示感谢并予以珍藏。现在人民文学出版社再次重印这本书，我对译本文字作了个别的调整。方谷绣已于１９９８年病逝。再印此书，也是对她的纪念。她在九泉之下见到这本书的新版本，也会高兴的。２００６年５月   

2、重庆出版社，刘荣跃翻译，2002年
3、出版社：吉林出版集团，译者：徐家宁，出版日期：2007-07-01，ISBN：9787807206910，
4、 湖北教育出版社，张洁校译，外国儿童文学经典100部 I S B N ： 9787535160768        出版时间： 2010-7-1
5、武汉大学出版社，文爱艺译，2010年秋出版（舒羽在序中点评道--这部译著更为贴合一个成年诗人对孩童记忆的抚摸（当然不乏适度的童稚语调）。有心的读者如能阅读原著，会发现作者的本意是用成年人的笔触写出孩提时代的所见所闻所想，是将此书奉献给每一个愿意阅读它的人，而非仅仅为孩子准备。这一点从第37首中可以得到证实：“你拿着的是我在争吵后给你的豆子，而我拿着的是你在最后一个星期六给我的玻璃球，如今我俩都已年迈，光荣一生。就让我们在这儿重聚，缅怀那过往的时光。”再看第97首：“隐去所有星星，熄灭所有蜡烛，在这之前我们会再次年轻。” 也正是这种交织着理性与感性、记忆与经验的特殊效果使得它流传至今，并始终被大众读者亲睐。）
6、一个孩子的诗园  重庆出版社  2011-5
罗伯特·斯蒂文森(Stevenson.R.L.) (作者), 肯·尼尔森(NILSEN.K.) (插图作者), 屠岸 (译者), 方谷绣 (译者)

[[i] 本帖最后由 ououmama 于 2012-3-20 12:10 编辑 [/i]].

我也很喜欢 :)

PDF 上传到[url]http://ishare.iask.sina.com.cn[/url]以后，才发现早有人上传了 :).