Shadow March *Robert Louis Stevenson*

Shadow March

*Robert Louis Stevenson*




All around the house is the jet-black night

It stares through the window-pane

It crawls in the corners, hiding from the light

And it moves with the moving flame.



Now my little heart goes a beating like a drum,

With the breath of the Bogies in my hair

And all around the candle and the crooked shadows come

And go marching along up the stair.



The shadow of the balusters, the shadow of the lamp,

The shadow of the child that goes to bed--

All the wicked shadows coming tramp, tramp, tramp,

With the black night overhead.