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Robert Louis Balfour Stevenson (13 November 1850 – 3 December 1894) was a Scottish novelist, poet, essayist, and travel writer. His most famous works are Treasure Island, Kidnapped, and Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.
A literary celebrity during his lifetime, Stevenson now ranks among the 26 most translated authors in the world. His works have been admired by many other writers, including Jorge Luis Borges, Bertolt Brecht, Marcel Proust, Arthur Conan Doyle, Henry James, Cesare Pavese, Ernest Hemingway, Rudyard Kipling, Jack London, Vladimir Nabokov, J. M. Barrie, and G. K. Chesterton, who said of him that he “seemed to pick the right word up on the point of his pen, like a man playing spillikins.”
the song of the morrow by Robert Louis Stevenson this is a librivox recording all librivox recordings are in the public domain for further information or to volunteer please visit librivox.org the song of the morrow by Robert Louis Stevenson the king of doctrine had a daughter when he was old and she was the fairest king's daughter between to seize her hair was like spun gold and her eyes like pools in a river and the king gave her a castle upon the sea beach with a terrace and a quart of the human stone and four towers at the four corners here she'd well don't grow up and had no care for the morrow and no power up on the hour after the manner of simple men it befell that she walked one day by the beach of the sea when it was autumn and the wind blew from the place of rains and upon the one hand of her the sea beat and upon the other the dead leaves ran this was the loneliest beach between two seas and strange things have been done there in the ancient ages now the king's daughter was aware of a Crone that SAT upon the beach the seafoam run to her feet and the dead leaves swarmed about her back and the rags blue about her face in the blowing of the wind now said the king's daughter and she named a holy name this is the most unhappy old crone between two seas daughter of a king said the chrome you dwell in a stone house and your hair is like the gold but what is your profit life is not long no live strong and you live after the way of simple men and have no thought for the morrow and no power upon the hour thought for the morrow that I have said the king's daughter but power upon the earth at her by not and she mused with her so then the Crone smote a lean hands one within the other and a lot like a seagull mmm cried she o daughter of a king home to your stone house for the long Angus come upon you now know can you live anymore after the manner of simple men home and toil and suffer till the gift come that will make you bear until the man come that will bring you care the king's daughter made no more ado but she turned about and went home to her house in silence and when she was coming to her chamber she called for her nurse nurse said the king's daughter bolt has come upon me for the morrow so as I can live no more out of the manner of simple men tell me what I must do at the time I have power upon the hour then the nurse moaned like a snow Wendell eyes said she that this thing should be but the thought has gone into your marrow nor is there any cure against the thought be it so then even as you will the power is less than weakness power shall you have under the thought is colder than winter yet shall you think it to an end so the king's daughter sat in her bolted chamber in the masinde house and she thought upon the thought nine years she SAT and the sea beat upon the terrace and the girls cried about the turrets and wind crooned in the chimneys of the nine years she came not abroad nor tasted the clean air neither saw God sky nine years she SAT and looked neither to the right nor to the left nor heard speech of anyone the thought upon the thought of the morrow and her nurse fed her in silence and she took of the food with her left hand and at it without grace now when the nine years were out did 12 dusk in the autumn and the chemist sound in the wind like a sound of piping up that the nurse looked it up her finger in the bolted house I hear a sound in the wind said she that is like the sound of piping it is but a little sounds at the king's daughter but yet sound enough for me so they went down in the dusk to the doors of the house and along the beach of the sea and the waves beat upon the one hand and upon the other the dead leaves ran and the clouds raced in the sky and the goals flew additions and when they came to that part of the beach west range things have been done in the ancient ages lo there was the Crone and she was dancing widdershins what makes you dance with oceans old crones at the king's daughter here upon the bleak beach between the waves and the dead leaves I hear a sound in the wind that is like a sound of piping both she and it is for that that I down to widdershins but the gift come that will make you bear and the man comes to must bring you care but for me the morrow has come that I have thought upon and the hour of my power how comes it Crone's at the king's daughter that you waver like a rag and pale like a deadly before my eyes because the morrow has come that I have thought upon and the hour of my power has set the Crone and she fell on the beach and low she was but Stokes of the seat angle and dust of the sea sand and the sand lice hopped upon the place of her this is the strangest thing that we fell between to see said the king's daughter have done train but the nurse broke out and moaned like an autumn gale I am weary of the wind quoth she and she be wailed her day the king's daughter was aware of a man upon the beach he went to hood it so that none might perceive his face and the pipe was underneath his arm the sound of his pipe was like singing wasps and like the wind that sings in windell straw and it took hold upon men's ears like the crying of girls are you the comma quote the king's daughter ripped and trained I am the comer said he and these are the pipes that a man may hear and I have power upon the hour and this is the song of the morrow and he bumped the song at the morrow and it was as long as years and the nurse wept out aloud at the hearing of it this is true that the king's daughter that you put the song of the morrow but that G have power upon the our Hamlet I know that show me a marble here up on the beach between the waves and the dead leaves and the man said upon whom here is my nurse quoth the king's daughter she is wary of the wind show me a good Marvel upon her and lo the nurse fell upon the beach as it were two handfuls of dead leaves and the wind world them woody shins and the soundless hawked between it is true said the king's daughter of tension you are the comer and you have power upon the hour come with me to my stone ass so they went by the sea margin and the man piped the song of the morrow and the leaves followed behind them as they went then they sat down together on the sea beat on the terrace and the girls cried about the towers and the wind chromed in the chimneys of the house nine years they SAT and every year when it fell autumn the man said this is the hour and I have power in it on the daughter of the king said nay but piped me the song of the morrow and he piped it and it was long like years now when the nine years were gone the king's daughter have done treen got her to her feet like one that remembers and she looked about her in the Mason Townsend all her servants were gone only the man that piped SAT upon the terrace with the hand upon his face and as he piped the leaves ran about the terrace and the sea beat along the wall then she cried to him with a direct voice this is the hour and let me see the power in it and with that the wind blew up the hood from the man's face and lo there was no man there only the clothes and the hood and the pipes tumbled one upon another in a corner of the terrace and the dead leaves run over them and the king's daughter Ogden train got her to that part of the beach westerham things have been done in the ancient ages and there she SAT her down the seafoam rent to her feet and the dead leaves swarmed about her back and the veil blue about her face and the blowing of the wind when she lifted up her eyes there was the daughter of a king come walking on the beach I was like the spun gold her eyes like pools in a river and she had no thought for the morrow and no power upon the hour after the manner of simple men the end of the song of the morrow by Robert Louis Stevenson