Читать книгу The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson – Swanston Edition. Volume 14 - Robert Louis Stevenson - Страница 42

When 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 ye well!

All round 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 Bogie in my hair;

And all round the candle 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.

Last, to the chamber where I lie

My fearful footsteps patter nigh,

And come from out the cold and gloom

Into my warm and cheerful room.

There, safe arrived, we turned about

To keep the coming shadows out,

And close the happy door at last

On all the perils that we passed.

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.