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.

 

He stays so close beside me, he’s a coward you can see;

 

I’d think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!

 

One morning, very early, before the sun was up,

 

I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;

 

But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,

 

Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.