FOREIGN LANDS 235 



infinity of vegetation, fine as the choicest cut leaves, 

 strong and rugged in places as the unbarked trunk 

 and gnarled roots at the ground's surface. Is there 

 any other place, except the seaside, where hours 

 are so short and moments so swift as in a forest? 

 Where else, except in the rare communion of those 

 friends much loved, do we awake from pleasure, 

 whose calm flow is without a ripple, into surprise 

 that whole hours are gone which we thought but 

 just begun blossomed and dropped, which we 

 thought but just budding! 



FOREIGN LANDS 



BY ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 



UP into the cherry-tree 



Who should climb but little me? 



I held the trunk with both my hands; 



And looked abroad on foreign lands. 



I saw the next-door garden lie, 

 Adorned with flowers, before my eye, 

 And many pleasant places more 

 That I had never seen before. 



I saw the dimpling river pass 

 And be the sky's blue looking-glass; 

 And dusty roads go up and down, 

 And people tramping into town. 



