Her Swing

She once soared high into the sky.

The Swing

BY ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

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,
Rivers 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!

No More Up in the Swing

No more up in the swing so high,
Up in the sky so blue;
The joy has faded, the thrill gone by,
Forgotten, it seems, too.

Her heart once light with every flight,
Now heavy with despair;
Her swing stands still, in disrepair,
Its ropes frayed and bare.

Where has she fled, the girl who soared,
With dreams as bright as day?
Lost in a life of burdens and strife,
Her simple joys away.

No more up in the swing so high,
No more to touch the sky;
Her laughter silenced, her spirit worn,
Beneath a muted sky.

Unframed Size: 48"w x 36"h
Framed Size: 58"w x 38"h