I remember this poem by Robert Louis Stevenson. Mother recited to me often. I found this page in a Dover Publication and thought it appropriate for a summer day.
Treasure Island might be more respected and popular as far as a RLS work. I recall reading that book for myself. Of course, this Baby Boomer will always have the Disney version of the tale in my mind. But, it is The Swing I recall when hot summer days take me back to my childhood memories.
5 comments:
Every child is entitled to a swing. Ours was an old tire on a rope.
Better yet the Swing out over Armuchee Creek Swimming hole, it was cool when I learned to dive off into the water.
What great fun a swing over a swimmin hole is Sarge. When our son Jeff was old enough, we made him a tire swing. It always helps to have a nice oak tree in your yard.
What great fun a swing over a swimmin hole is Sarge. When our son Jeff was old enough, we made him a tire swing. It always helps to have a nice oak tree in your yard.
I lilke the like "it is the pleasantest thing..." cute. oh and how I loved swings as a little 'un
I recited this poem, or snippets of it, when I swung on the swing my dad built. I swung every day; my friends couldn't wait to come to my house to use the swing as well.
Much of my puberty angst was worked out here, it became a survival tool.
Thanks for printing out the poem, Sheila...it's been years since I've thought of it.
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