James Whitcomb Riley

Little Orphant Annie

INSCRIBED WITH ALL FAITH AND AFFECTION To all the little children: The happy ones; and sad ones; The sober and the silent ones; the boisterous and glad ones; The good ones Yes, the good

Our Hired Girl

Our hired girl, she’s ‘Lizabuth Ann; An’ she can cook best things to eat! She ist puts dough in our pie-pan, An’ pours in somepin’ ‘at’s good an’ sweet; An’ nen she salts it

The Raggedy Man

O the Raggedy Man! He works fer Pa; An’ he’s the goodest man ever you saw! He comes to our house every day, An’ waters the horses, an’ feeds ’em hay; An’ he opens

Ike Walton's Prayer

I crave, dear Lord, No boundless hoard Of gold and gear, Nor jewels fine, Nor lands, nor kine, Nor treasure-heaps of anything.- Let but a little hut be mine Where at the hearthstore I

At Broad Ripple

Oh luxury! Beyond the heat And dust of town, with dangling feet Astride the rock below the dam, In the cool shadows where the calm Rests on the stream again, and all Is silent

The Merman

I Who would be A merman gay, Singing alone, Sitting alone, With a mermaid’s knee, For instance hey For a throne? II I would be a merman gay; I would sit and sing the

Orlie Wilde

A goddess, with a siren’s grace, A sun-haired girl on a craggy place Above a bay where fish-boats lay Drifting about like birds of prey. Wrought was she of a painter’s dream, Wise only

The Ripest Peach

The ripest peach is highest on the tree And so her love, beyond the reach of me, Is dearest in my sight. Sweet breezes, bow Her heart down to me where I worship now!

The Song of Yesterday

I But yesterday I looked away O’er happy lands, where sunshine lay In golden blots, Inlaid with spots Of shade and wild forget-me-nots. My head was fair With flaxen hair, And fragrant breezes, faint

“Rain and Rain! and rain and rain!” Yesterday we muttered Grimly as the grim refrain That the thunders uttered: All the heavens under cloud All the sunshine sleeping; All the grasses limply bowed With

A Passing Hail

Let us rest ourselves a bit! Worry? wave your hand to it Kiss your finger-tips and smile It farewell a little while. Weary of the weary way We have come from Yesterday, Let us

Almost Beyond Endurance

I ain’t a-goin’ to cry no more, no more! I’m got ear-ache, an’ Ma can’t make It quit a-tall; An’ Carlo bite my rubber-ball An’ puncture it; an’ Sis she take An’ poke’ my

The Bumblebee

You better not fool with a Bumblebee! Ef you don’t think they can sting you’ll see! They’re lazy to look at, an’ kind o’ go Buzzin’ an’ bummin’ aroun’ so slow, An’ ac’ so

The Willow

Who shall sing a simple ditty about the Willow, Dainty-fine and delicate as any bending spray That dandles high the dainty bird that flutters there to trill a Tremulously tender song of greeting to

A Barefoot Boy

A barefoot boy! I mark him at his play For May is here once more, and so is he, His dusty trousers, rolled half to the knee, And his bare ankles grimy, too, as

The Old Swimmin'-Hole

OH! the old swimmin’-hole! whare the crick so still and deep Looked like a baby-river that was laying half asleep, And the gurgle of the worter round the drift jest below Sounded like the

Granny

Granny’s come to our house, And ho! my lawzy-daisy! All the childern round the place Is ist a-runnin’ crazy! Fetched a cake fer little Jake, And fetched a pie fer Nanny, And fetched a

A Life-Lesson

There! little girl; don’t cry! They have broken your doll, I know; And your tea-set blue, And your play-house, too, Are things of the long ago; But childish troubles will soon pass by. There!

Nine Little Goblins

THEY all climbed up on a high board-fence – Nine little Goblins, with green-glass eyes – Nine little Goblins that had no sense, And couldn’t tell coppers from cold mince pies; And they all

The Old Guitar

Neglected now is the old guitar And moldering into decay; Fretted with many a rift and scar That the dull dust hides away, While the spider spins a silver star In its silent lips

To a Boy Whistling

The smiling face of a happy boy With its enchanted key Is now unlocking in memory My store of heartiest joy. And my lost life again to-day, In pleasant colors all aglow, From rainbow

Who Bides His Time

Who bides his time, and day by day Faces defeat full patiently, And lifts a mirthful roundelay, However poor his fortunes be, He will not fail in any qualm Of poverty the paltry dime

A Noon Interval

A deep, delicious hush in earth and sky A gracious lull since, from its wakening, The morn has been a feverish, restless thing In which the pulse of Summer ran too high And riotous,

When the Frost is on the Punkin

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock, And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin’ turkey-cock, And the clackin’ of the guineys, and the cluckin’ of

Unless

Who has not wanted, does not guess What plenty is. Who has not groped In depths of doubt and hopelessness, Has never truly hoped. Unless, sometimes, a shaow falls Upon his mirth, and veils

Wet-weather Talk

It hain’t no use to grumble and complane; It’s jest as cheap and easy to rejoice. When God sorts out the weather and sends rain, W’y rain’s my choice. Men ginerly, to all intents

A Parting Guest

What delightful hosts are they Life and Love! Lingeringly I turn away, This late hour, yet glad enough They have not withheld from me Their high hospitality. So, with face lit with delight And

The Rapture of the Year

While skies glint bright with bluest light Through clouds that race o’er fields and town, And leaves go dancing left and right, And orchard apples tumble down; While school-girls sweet, in lane or street,

The Harper

Like a drift of faded blossoms Caught in a slanting rain, His fingers glimpsed down the strings of his harp In a tremulous refrain: Patter and tinkle, and drip and drip! Ah! but the

A Poet's Wooing

I woo’d a woman once, But she was sharper than an eastern wind. Tennyson “What may I do to make you glad, To make you glad and free, Till your light smiles glance And

A Summer Afternoon

A languid atmosphere, a lazy breeze, With labored respiration, moves the wheat From distant reaches, till the golden seas Break in crisp whispers at my feet. My book, neglected of an idle mind, Hides

Ylladmar

Her hair was, oh, so dense a blur Of darkness, midnight envied her; And stars grew dimmer in the skies To see the glory of her eyes; And all the summer rain of light

A Song of the Road

O I will walk with you, my lad, whichever way you fare, You’ll have me, too, the side o’ you, with heart as light as air; No care for where the road you take’s

The Old Times Were the Best

Friends, my heart is half aweary Of its happiness to-night: Though your songs are gay and cheery, And your spirits feather-light, There’s a ghostly music haunting Still the heart of every guest And a

Knee-Deep in June

Tell you what I like the best ‘Long about knee-deep in June, ‘Bout the time strawberries melts On the vine, some afternoon Like to jes’ git out and rest, And not work at nothin’

The Rival

I so loved once, when Death came by I hid Away my face, And all my sweetheart’s tresses she undid To make my hiding-place. The dread shade passed me thus unheeding; and I turned

There Was a Cherry-Tree

There was a cherry-tree. Its bloomy snows Cool even now the fevered sight that knows No more its airy visions of pure joy As when you were a boy. There was a cherry-tree. The

Liberty

New Castle, July 4, 1878 Or a hundred years the pulse of time Has throbbed for Liberty; For a hundred years the grand old clime Columbia has been free; For a hundred years our