Robert Louis Stevenson: Collected Poems Edited, with an introduction and notes, by Janet Adam Smith |
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IN CHARIDEMUM
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| VIII. |
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| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
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| XXI. |
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 | Robert Louis Stevenson: Collected Poems |  |
IN CHARIDEMUM
XI. 39
You, Charidemus, who my cradle swungAnd watched me all the days that I was young—
You, at whose steps the laziest slaves awake
And both the bailiff and the butler quake—
The barber's suds now blacken with my beard
And my rough kisses make the maids afeard:
Still, in your eyes, before your judgement seat,
I am the baby that you used to beat.
You must do all things, unreproved; but I
If once to play or to my love I fly,
Big with reproach, I see your eyebrows twitch,
And for the accustomed cane your fingers itch.
300
Straight you exclaim: ‘Your father did not so!’
And, frowning, count the bottles on the board,
As though my cellar were your private hoard.
Enough, at last! I have borne all I can,
And your own mistress hails me for a man.
| Robert Louis Stevenson: Collected Poems | |