Robert Louis Stevenson’s birthday fell last week. To mark it, Jim C Wilson offers this triolet, spanning RLS’s worlds, from golden childhood to the dark dichotomies of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.

Below, is the opening poem of the poet’s Songs of Travel, set so wonderfully to music by Vaughan Williams. 


RLS
The garden was unending to the child
but Mr Hyde was there, behind each tree.
A high bright sun smiled down; the breeze was mild;
the garden was unending. To the child
the trees were masts. He sailed across the wild
South Seas until he reached his final quay.
His Eden seemed unending; he was beguiled;
and Mr Hyde was there, behind each tree.

THE VAGABOND
Give to me the life I love,
      Let the lave go by me,
Give the jolly heaven above
      And the byway night me.
Bed in the bush with stars to see,
      Bread I dip in the river --
There’s the life for a man like me,
      There’s the life for ever.

Let the blow fall soon or late,
      Let what will be o’er me;
Give the face of earth around
      And the road before me.
Wealth I seek not, hope nor love,
      Nor a friend to know me;
All I seek, the heaven above
      And the road below me.

Or let autumn fall on me
      Where afield I linger,
Silencing the bird on tree,
      Biting the blue finger;
White as meal the frosty field --
      Warm the fireside haven --
Not to autumn will I yield,
      Not to winter even!

Let the blow fall soon or late,
      Let what will be o’er me;
Give the face of earth around,
      And the road before me.
Wealth I ask not, hope, nor love,
      Nor a friend to know me.
All I ask, the heaven above
      And the road below me.