From “Foreign Children” from Robert Louis Stevenson A Child’s Garden of Verses
Little Indian, Sioux or Crow,
Little frosty Eskimo,
Little Turk or Japanee.
Oh! don’t you wish you were me?
And on the poetic voice goes to extoll the virtues of home. This stanza with the “Little frosty Eskimo” line returns at the end of the poem and catches the ear and the heart wonders if the verses cannot be rewritten to suit a more modern ethos than the imperialist tendencies howsoever innocently couched.
And so for day 574