Robert Louis Stevenson

NOW WHEN THE NUMBER OF MY YEARS

Now when the number of my years
Is all fulfilled, and I
From sedentary life
Shall rouse me up to die,
Bury me low and let me lie
Under the wide and starry sky.
Joying to live, I joyed to die,
Bury me low and let me lie.

Clear was my soul, my deeds were free,
Honour was called my name,
I fell not back from fear
Nor followed after fame.
Bury me low and let me lie
Under the wide and starry sky.
Joying to live, I joyed to die,
Bury me low and let me lie.

Bury me low in valleys green
And where the milder breeze
Blows fresh along the stream,
Sings roundly in the trees -
Bury me low and let me lie
Under the wide and starry sky.
Joying to live, I joyed to die,
Bury me low and let me lie.

WHEN THE SUN COMES AFTER RAIN

When the sun comes after rain
And the bird is in the blue,
The girls go down the lane
Two by two.

When the sun comes after shadow
And the singing of the showers,
The girls go up the meadow,
Fair as flowers.

When the eve comes dusky red
And the moon succeeds the sun,
The girls go home to bed
One by one.

And when life draws to its even
And the day of man is past,
They shall all go home to heaven,
Home at last.

His Epitaph

Under the wide and starry sky
Dig the grave and let me lie.
Glad did I live, and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.

This be the verse you grave for me:
Here he lies where he longed to be;
Home is the sailor, home from the sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.

'You are a strange physician,' said Will,
looking steadfastly upon his guest.
'I am a natural law,' he replied,
'and people call me Death.'
'Why did you not tell me so at first?' cried Will.
'I have been waiting for you these many years.
Give me your hand, and welcome.'

It is better to lose health like a spendthrift
than to waste it like a miser.
It is better to live and be done with it,
than to die daily in the sickroom.
By all means begin your folio;
even if the doctor does not give you a year,
even if he hesitates about a month,
make one brave push and see what can be accomplished in a
week. It is not only in finished undertakings
that we ought to honour useful labour.
A spirit goes out of the man who means execution,
which outlives the most untimely ending.
All who have meant good work with their whole hearts,
have done good work,
although they may die before they have the time to sign it.
Every heart that has beat strong and cheerfully has left a
hopeful impulse behind it in the world, and bettered the
tradition of mankind.

We are not content to pass away entirely from the scenes of
our delight; we would leave, if but in gratitude, a pillar and a legend.

My idea of man's chief end was to enrich the world with
things of beauty, and have a fairly good time myself
while doing so.

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