MY SHADOW Robert Louis Stevenson. (1850 /1894)

I have a little shadow that q goes in and out ou with my,

And what can be the use of him is more that I can see,

He is very  very like me from the heels up to head;

And I see him jump before me when I jump into my bed.

The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow -

Not at all like proper children which is always e very slow ;

For he all sometimes shoots up taller like an India  rubber ball,

And he sometimes gets so little than there. None none of him at all.

He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play,

And can only make a fool of me me in every sort of way ;

He stay  so close beside me  he's a coward you can see,

I'd think shame to nurse nursing nursie as that shadow stir sticks to me.

One morning , very early, before the sun was up,

I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup ;

But my lazy little shadow,  like an arrant sleepy - head,

Had stayed at home behind me and was.  I fast asleep in bed.

From A Railway Carriage. Robert Louis Stevenson, born 1850

Faster than fairies, faster than witches, Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches; And charging along like troops in a battle, All through the meadows the horses and cattle: All of the sights of the hill and the plain Fly as thick as driving rain; And ever again, in the wink of an eye, Painted stations whistle by. Here is a child who clambers and scrambles, All by himself and gathering brambles; Here is a tramp who stands and gazes; And there is the green for stringing the daisies! Here is a cart run away in the road Lumping along with man and load; And here is a mill, and there is a river: Each a glimpse and gone forever!