395 Works of James Whitcomb Riley
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Wilful we are in our infirmity Of childish questioning and discontent. Whate’er befalls us is divinely meant– Thou Truth the clearer for thy mystery! Make us to meet what is or is to be With fervid welcome, knowing it is sent To serve us in some way full excellent, Though we discern it all belatedly. […]
But yesterday!… O blooms of May, And summer roses–Where-away? O stars above, And lips of love And all the honeyed sweets thereof! O lad and lass And orchard-pass, And briered lane, and daisied grass! O gleam and gloom, And woodland bloom, And breezy breaths of all perfume!– No more for me Or mine shall be […]
I Has she forgotten? On this very May We were to meet here, with the birds and bees, As on that Sabbath, underneath the trees We strayed among the tombs, and stripped away The vines from these old granites, cold and gray– And yet indeed not grim enough were they To stay our kisses, smiles […]
Nobody on the old farm here but Mother, me and John, Except, of course, the extry he’p when harvest-time comes on,– And THEN, I want to say to you, we NEEDED he’p about, As you’d admit, ef you’d a-seen the way the crops turned out! A better quarter-section ner a richer soil warn’t found Than […]
It’s a mystery to see me–a man o’ fifty-four, Who’s lived a cross old bachelor fer thirty year’ and more– A-lookin’ glad and smilin’! And they’s none o’ you can say That you can guess the reason why I feel so good to-day! I must tell you all about it! But I’ll have to deviate […]
“Mylo Jones’s wife” was all I heerd, mighty near, last Fall– Visitun relations down T’other side of Morgantown! Mylo Jones’s wife she does This and that, and “those” and “thus”!– Can’t ‘bide babies in her sight– Ner no childern, day and night, Whoopin’ round the premises– NER NO NOTHIN’ ELSE, I guess! Mylo Jones’s wife […]
The summer winds is sniffin’ round the bloomin’ locus’ trees; And the clover in the pastur is a big day fer the bees, And they been a-swiggin’ honey, above board and on the sly, Tel they stutter in theyr buzzin’ and stagger as they fly. The flicker on the fence-rail ‘pears to jest spit on […]
Little brook! Little brook! You have such a happy look– Such a very merry manner, as you swerve and curve and crook– And your ripples, one and one, Reach each other’s hands and run Like laughing little children in the sun! Little brook, sing to me: Sing about a bumblebee That tumbled from a lily-bell […]
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– Although they’re apt to grumble some– Puts most theyr trust in Providence, And takes things as they come– That is, the […]
In Spring, when the green gits back in the trees, And the sun comes out and STAYS, And yer boots pulls on with a good tight squeeze, And you think of yer bare-foot days; When you ORT to work and you want to NOT, And you and yer wife agrees It’s time to spade up […]
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 the hens, And the rooster’s hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence; O, it’s then’s the times a feller is a-feelin’ […]
Old October’s purt’ nigh gone, And the frosts is comin’ on Little HEAVIER every day– Like our hearts is thataway! Leaves is changin’ overhead Back from green to gray and red, Brown and yeller, with their stems Loosenin’ on the oaks and e’ms; And the balance of the trees Gittin’ balder every breeze– Like the […]
Some sings of the lily, and daisy, and rose, And the pansies and pinks that the Summertime throws In the green grassy lap of the medder that lays Blinkin’ up at the skyes through the sunshiney days; But what is the lily and all of the rest Of the flowers, to a man with a […]
I The air falls chill; The whippoorwill Pipes lonesomely behind the hill: The dusk grows dense, The silence tense; And lo, the katydids commence. II Through shadowy rifts Of woodland, lifts The low, slow moon, and upward drifts, While left and right The fireflies’ light Swirls eddying in the skirts of Night. III O Cloudland, […]
I 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’ else’ II Orchard’s where I’d ruther be– Needn’t fence it in fer me!– Jes’ the whole sky overhead, And the whole […]
Folks has be’n to town, and Sahry Fetched ‘er home a pet canary,– And of all the blame’, contrary, Aggervatin’ things alive! I love music–that’s I love it When it’s free–and plenty of it;– But I kindo’ git above it, At a dollar-eighty-five! Reason’s plain as I’m a–sayin’,– Jes’ the idy, now, o’ layin’ Out […]
Pap’s got his pattent-right, and rich as all creation; But where’s the peace and comfort that we all had before? Le’s go a-visitin’ back to Griggsby’s Station– Back where we ust to be so happy and so pore! The likes of us a-livin’ here! It’s jest a mortal pity To see us in this great […]
The old farm-home is Mother’s yet and mine, And filled it is with plenty and to spare,– But we are lonely here in life’s decline, Though fortune smiles around us everywhere: We look across the gold Of the harvests, as of old– The corn, the fragrant clover, and the hay But most we turn our […]
Oh! tell me a tale of the airly days– Of the times as they ust to be; “Piller of Fi-er” and “Shakespeare’s Plays” Is a’ most too deep fer me! I want plane facts, and I want plane words, Of the good old-fashioned ways, When speech run free as the songs of birds ‘Way back […]
When country roads begin to thaw In mottled spots of damp and dust, And fences by the margin draw Along the frosty crust Their graphic silhouettes, I say, The Spring is coming round this way. When morning-time is bright with sun And keen with wind, and both confuse The dancing, glancing eyes of one With […]