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A collection of poetry by Scottish writer Robert Louis Stevenson.

Page 48 of 454
Table of Contents

Young Night Thought

All night long, and every night, When my mamma puts out the light, I see the people marching by, As plain as day, before my eye.

Armies and emperors and kings, All carrying different kinds of things, And marching in so grand a way, You never saw the like by day.

So fine a show was never seen At the great circus on the green; For every kind of beast and man Is marching in that caravan.

At first they move a little slow, But still the faster on they go, And still beside them close I keep Until we reach the town of Sleep.

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