The Swing

Edinburgh, birthplace of Robert Louis Stevenson

    As a child I used to love to go to the public park with my aunt and uncle. I wasn't interested in the slide, or the merry-go-round, that always made me feel dizzy and sick. I only wanted to be pushed on a swing. The metal chains that suspended the seat clunked, clicked and squeaked, as I was pushed high into the air. On each push upwards, I tried to grab hold of the elusive clouds, or catch sight of my gran's house which lay over the field behind.

    That's why today on the anniversary of the birth of Robert Louis Stevenson, I chose his poem, The Swing. It brings back so many fabulous memories of my childhood.

The Swing

How do you like to go up in a swing

Up in the air so blue?

Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing

Ever a child can do!

Up in the air and over the wall

Till I can see so wide

River and trees and cattle and all

Over the countryside

Till I look down on the garden green

Down on the roof so brown

Up in the air I go flying again

Up in the air and down!

Robert Louis Stevenson 
                      13 November 1850-3 December 1894

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