The Wind by Robert Louis Stevenson reviewed by Leanne Willetts

Robert Louis Stevenson writes with old fashioned charm. He takes delight in the simple and ordinary. This poem, in particular, views the wind through a child's eyes.

He wonders as to the nature of the wind:  'Are you a beast of field and tree,/or just a stronger child than me?'

The poem has a way of pulling you back to childhood when you had time to sit and wonder.

The poem draws upon all your senses. You feel the wind push at your face. You hear it's windy song. You see it merrily dance with the kites, birds, and grass.

The poem too talks about the sadness of not being able to find the unapproachable. The mystery always seems to be around the next corner:  'I saw the different things you did,/ But always you yourself you hid./ I felt you push, I heard you call,/I could not see yourself at all-'

I wrote this review on September 15, 1987, for a children's literature class I took at the University of Winnipeg.

I saw you toss the kites on high

And blow the birds about the sky,

And all around I heard you pass,

Like ladies' skirts across the grass--

O wind, a-blowing all day long,

O wind, that sings so loud a song!

I saw the different things you did,

But always you yourself you hid.

I felt you push, I heard you call,

I could not see yourself at all--

O wind, a-blowing all day long,

O wind, that sings so loud a song

O you that are so strong and cold,

O blower, are you young or old?

Are you a beast of field and tree,

Or just a stronger child than me?

O wind, a-blowing all day long,

O wind, that sings so loud a song

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To Any Reader by Robert Louis Stevenson reviewed by Leanne Willetts

To Any Reader

by Robert Louis Stevenson

As from the house your mother sees

You playing round the garden trees,

So you may see, if you will look

Through the windows of this book,

Another child, far, far, away,

And in another garden, play.

But do not think you can at all,

By knocking on window, call

That child to hear you. He intent

Is all on his play-business bent.

He does not hear; he will not look,

Nor yet be lured out of his book.

For, long ago, the truth to say,

He has grown up and gone away,

And it is but a child of air

That lingers in the garden there.

I wrote this review on September 24, 1987, for a children's literature course at the University of Winnipeg. The professor, whose name has unfortunately been lost to history, awarded me an A- and commented, "Interesting, as always." I will include her other comments at the end of this post.

I have resisted the desire to re-write--and will quote the entire review as it appeared when submitted, long ago.

(me in the 80's)

Stevenson's talent as a poet seems to be his ability to write from a child's point of view. This talent may stem from a chance lost, this chance being his ability to enjoy a healthy childhood.

Stevenson captures this sad longing in the poem To Any Reader.

The line, 'a child of air' seems to me to be expressing the idea of further strengthened by these lines, 'For, long ago, the truth to say,/ He has grown up and gone away.'

Stevenson has, in fact, found in his poems a safe place for his memories to remain. Writing may, in fact, act as a type of therapy to release him of the sad longing for a chance lost.

Most children, if read this poem, would, of course, not be impressed by Stevenson's sad longing. The poem holds for children the possibility of making a new friend, the new friend being the 'child of air' or, in fact, poetry.

The professor's additional comments...

Nice observation. The adult nostalgia for childhood can be seen over and over again in children's literature. It might, in fact, be an interesting topic for a critical article. If you're interested, I could start you on some books.

My reply (too many years later--I fear)

Yes, I am interested. Please direct me to them.

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