Foreign Lands

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by Robert Louis Stevenson

Up into the cherry tree
who should climb but little me?
I held the trunks with both my hands
and look abroad on foreign lands.

I saw the next-door garden lies,
adorned with flowers, before my eye,
and many pleasant faces more
that I had never seen before.

I saw the dimpling river pass
and be the sky's blue looking glass;
the dusty roads go up and down
with people tramping it to town.

If I could find a higher tree
farther and farther I should see,
to where the grown-up river slips
into the sea among the ships.

To where the roads on either hands
lead onward into fairy land,
where all the children dine at five
and all the playing things come alive.

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On Giving

Then said the rich man, speak to us of giving.
          And he answered:
          you give but little when you give of your possessions.
          It is when you give of yourself that you truly give,
          for what are your possessions but things you keep and guard
for fear may need them tomorrow?
          And tomorrow - what shall tomorrow give to the over prudent
dog burying bones in the trackless sand as he follows the
Pilgrims to the holy city?
          And what is fear of need but needs itself?
          Is not dread of thirst, when your well is full, the thirst
that is unquenchable?
          There are those who give little of the much of which they have-
and they give it for recognition , and their hidden desire makes
their gifts unwholesome.
          And there are those who give little and give it all.
          These are the believers in life and the bounty of life, and
their coffer is never empty.
          There are those who give for joy, and that joy is their reward.
          And there are those who give and know not pain in giving,
nor they seek joy nor give with mindfulness of virtue;
          they give as in yonder valley the myrtle breathes its
fragrance into space.
          Through the hands of such as these God speaks, and from
behind their eyes He smiles upon the earth.
          It is well to give when asked, but it  is better to give
unasked through understanding;
          and to the openhanded the search for one who shall receive
is joy greater than giving,
          in there is aught you would withhold?
          All you have shall someday be given;
          therefore give now, that the season of giving maybe yours
and not your inheritors'
          you often say, "I would give but only to the deserving."
          the trees in your orchard say not so, nor the flocks in your pasture.
          They give that they may live, for to withhold is to perish.
          Surely, he who is worthy to receive his days and his nights
is worthy of all else from you.

Author: Kahlil Gibran