395 Works of James Whitcomb Riley
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Settin’ round the stove, last night,Down at Wess’s store, was meAnd Mart Strimples, Tunk, and White,And Doc Bills, and two er threeFellers o’ the Mudsock tribeNo use tryin’ to describe!And says Doc, he says, says he–,“Talkin’ ’bout good things to eat,Ripe mushmillon’s hard to beat!” I chawed on. And Mart he ‘lowedWortermillon beat the mush–.“Red,” […]
On old Brandywine– aboutWhere White’s Lots is now laid out,And the old crick narries downTo the ditch that splits the town–,Kingry’s Mill stood. Hardly seeWhere the old dam ust to be;Shallor, long, dry trought o’ grassWhere the old race ust to pass! That’s be’n forty years ago–Forty years o’ frost and snow–Forty years o’ shade […]
Our Land– our Home– the common home indeedOf soil-born children and adopted ones–The stately daughters and the stalwart sonsOf Industry–: All greeting and godspeed!O home to proudly live for, and if needBe proudly die for, with the roar of gunsBlent with our latest prayer–. So died men once…Lo Peace…! As we look on the land […]
1The ticking– ticking– ticking of the clock–!That vexed me so last night–! “For though Time keepsSuch drowsy watch,” I moaned, “he never sleeps,But only nods above the world to mockIts restless occupant, then rudely rockIt as the cradle of a babe that weeps!”I seemed to see the seconds piled in heapsLike sand about me; and […]
Sweet Singer that I loe the maistO’ ony, sin’ wi’ eager hasteI smacket bairn-lips ower the tasteO’ hinnied sang,I hail thee, though a blessed ghaistIn Heaven lang! For weel I ken, nae cantie phrase,Nor courtly airs, nor lairdly ways,Could gar me freer blame, or praise,Or proffer hand,Where “Rantin’ Robbie” and his laysThegither stand. And sae […]
He faced his canvas (as a seer whose kenPierces the crust of this existence through)And smiled beyond on that his genius knewEre mated with his being. Conscious thenOf his high theme alone, he smiled againStraight back upon himself in many a hueAnd tint, and light and shade, which slowly grewEnfeatured of a fair girl’s face, […]
At Union Station ‘Ll where in the world my eyes has bin–Ef I hain’t missed that train ag’in!Chuff! And whistle! And toot! And ring!But blast and blister the dasted train–!How it does it I can’t explain!Git here thirty-five minutes beforeThe durn things due–! And, drat the thingIt’ll manage to git past-shore! The more I travel […]
Granny’s come to our house,And ho! My lawzy-daisy!All the childern round the placeIs ist a-runnin’ crazy!Fetched a cake fer little Jake,And fetched a pie fer Nanny,And fetched a pear fer all the packThat runs to kiss their Granny! Lucy Ellen’s in her lap,And Wade and Silas WalkerBoth’s a ridin’ on her foot,And ‘Pollos on the […]
Had a hare-lip– Joney had:Spiled his looks, and Joney knowed it:Fellers tried to bore him, bad–But ef ever he got mad,He kep’ still and never showed it.‘Druther have his mouth all poutedAnd split up, and like it wuz,Than the ones ‘at laughed about it.Purty is as purty does! Had to listen ruther clos’t‘Fore you knowed […]
“Uncle Jake’s Place,” St. Jo, Mo., 1874 “I was born in Indiany,” says a stranger, lank and slim,As us fellers in the restarunt was kindo’ guyin’ him,And Uncle Jake was slidin’ him another punkin pieAnd a’ extry cup o’ coffee, with a twinkle in his eye.“I was born in Indiany– more’n forty year’ ago–I hain’t […]
As I sat smoking, alone, yesterday, And lazily leaning back in my chair, Enjoying myself in a general way– Allowing my thoughts a holiday From weariness, toil and care,– My fancies–doubtless, for ventilation– Left ajar the gates of my mind,– And Memory, seeing the situation, Slipped out in street of “Auld Lang Syne.” Wandering ever […]
Fer forty year and better you have been a friend to me, Through days of sore afflictions and dire adversity, You allus had a kind word of counsul to impart, Which was like a healin’ ‘intment to the sorrow of my hart. When I burried my first womern, William Leachman, it was you Had the […]
The dawn of the day was dreary, And the lowering clouds o’erhead Wept in a silent sorrow Where the sweet sunshine lay dead; And a wind came out of the eastward Like an endless sigh of pain, And the leaves fell down in the pathway And writhed in the falling rain. I had tried in […]
Where do you go when you go to sleep, Little Boy! Little Boy! where? ‘Way–‘way in where’s Little Bo-Peep, And Little Boy Blue, and the Cows and Sheep A-wandering ‘way in there;–in there– A-wandering ‘way in there! And what do you see when lost in dreams, Little Boy, ‘way in there? Firefly-glimmers and glowworm-gleams, And […]
John McKeen, in his rusty dress, His loosened collar, and swarthy throat; His face unshaven, and none the less, His hearty laugh and his wholesomeness, And the wealth of a workman’s vote! Bring him, O Memory, here once more, And tilt him back in his Windsor chair By the kitchen-stove, when the day is o’er […]
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-day. The keys hold only nerveless strings– The sinews of brave old airs Are pulseless now; and the scarf that clings […]
Ho! I’m going back to where We were youngsters.–Meet me there, Dear old barefoot chum, and we Will be as we used to be,– Lawless rangers up and down The old creek beyond the town– Little sunburnt gods at play, Just as in that far-away:– Water nymphs, all unafraid, Shall smile at us from the […]
A Voice From the Interior of Old Hoop-Pole Township Friend of my earliest youth, Can’t you arrange to come down And visit a fellow out here in the woods– Out of the dust of the town? Can’t you forget you’re a Judge And put by your dolorous frown And tan your wan face in the […]
Pap he allus ust to say, “Chris’mus comes but onc’t a year!” Liked to hear him that-a-way, In his old split-bottomed cheer By the fireplace here at night– Wood all in,–and room all bright, Warm and snug, and folks all here: “Chris’mus comes but onc’t a year!” Me and ‘Lize, and Warr’n and Jess And […]
O your hands–they are strangely fair! Fair–for the jewels that sparkle there,– Fair–for the witchery of the spell That ivory keys alone can tell; But when their delicate touches rest Here in my own do I love them best, As I clasp with eager acquisitive spans My glorious treasure of beautiful hands! Marvelous–wonderful–beautiful hands! They […]