Robert Louis Stevenson > A Child’s Garden of Verses and Underwoods > XII. To Mrs. Will. H. Low
Stevenson, Robert Louis (1850–1894).  A Child’s Garden of Verses and Underwoods.  1913.
XII. To Mrs. Will. H. Low

EVEN in the bluest noonday of July, 
There could not run the smallest breath of wind 
But all the quarter sounded like a wood; 
And in the chequered silence and above 
The hum of city cabs that sought the Bois,         5
Suburban ashes shivered into song. 
A patter and a chatter and a chirp 
And a long dying hiss—it was as though 
Starched old brocaded dames through all the house 
Had trailed a strident skirt, or the whole sky  10
Even in a wink had over-brimmed in rain. 
Hark, in these shady parlours, how it talks 
Of the near autumn, how the smitten ash 
Trembles and augurs floods! O not too long 
In these inconstant latitudes delay,  15
O not too late from the unbeloved north 
Trim your escape! For soon shall this low roof 
Resound indeed with rain, soon shall your eyes 
Search the foul garden, search the darkened rooms, 
Nor find one jewel but the blazing log.



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