My Shadow I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.

He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;
And I see him jump before me when I jump into my bed.

The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow—
Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;

For he sometimes shoots up taller like an India rubber ball,
And he sometimes gets so little that there’s none of him at all.

He hasn’t got a notion of how children ought to play,
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.

His whole existence has a shade, with thinks of being out,
He may be warm and dear,
But is also far away and doubt.

• Robert Louis Stevenson