My grandma gave me this book when I was very young. I read it around ages 6-7 years-old. It made me happy to be young and now it makes me want to be that young again. It was strange how easily I could identify with the young Robert Louis Stevenson. I could absolutely understand his annoyance at being sent to bed while it was still light in summer and I just wanted to be there with him. When I read it back now I am reminded of the innocence of being so young, something that I didn't think about on first reading because I was far to innocent to understand innocence. I am baffled that a poetry book first released in 1885 could capture the imagination of a 7 year-old girl in 2002. That makes it unique in my view.
In childish writing, inside the cover of my copy it says 'This book was given to me by Grandma Bertha.' My Grandma Bertha has since passed away and this is the most treasured thing I have that she gave to me. It was the first time I had loved reading poetry and it probably first sparked my interest in poetry as a genre. This book is brilliant. Buy it for your children or grand children. I'm very glad my Grandma Bertha did.