Robert Louis Stevenson reader

Part 2 — THE LAND OF STORY-BOOKS

Reading edition

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 around 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.

A young boy with wavy brown hair lies on his stomach, reading a book. He wears a pale yellow long-sleeved shirt with a dark blue or black bow at the collar. His legs are bent at the knees and kicked up behind him, showing white socks and dark shoes with yellow soles. He rests his chin on his right hand, while his left hand rests flat on the open book. The book is large and thick, lying in front of him. The pages are turning, and you can see faint, colorful hints of illustrations or text on them.