James Whitcomb Riley

(7 October 1849 - 22 July 1916 / Greenfield, Indiana)

James Whitcomb Riley Poems

361. The Rose 4/9/2010
362. The Runaway Boy 4/9/2010
363. The Same Old Story 4/9/2010
364. The Serenade 4/9/2010
365. The Sermon Of The Rose 4/9/2010
366. The Shoemaker 4/9/2010
367. The Shower 4/9/2010
368. The Silent Victors 4/9/2010
369. The Singer 4/9/2010
370. The Song Of Yesterday 1/3/2003
371. The South Wind And The Sun 4/9/2010
372. The Speeding Of The King's Spite 4/9/2010
373. The Sphinx 4/9/2010
374. The Squirtgun Uncle Maked Me 4/9/2010
375. The Stepmother 4/9/2010
376. The Touches Of Her Hand 4/9/2010
377. The Town Karnteel 4/9/2010
378. The Train Misser 4/9/2010
379. The Treasure Of The Wise Man 4/9/2010
380. The Tree-Toad 4/9/2010
381. The Twins 4/9/2010
382. The Wandering Jew 4/9/2010
383. The Watches Of The Night 4/9/2010
384. The Way It Wuz 4/9/2010
385. The Wife-Blessed 4/9/2010
386. The Willow 1/3/2003
387. Their Sweet Sorrow 4/9/2010
388. Them Flowers 4/9/2010
389. There Was A Cherry-Tree 1/3/2003
390. Thinkin' Back 4/9/2010
391. Thomas The Pretender 4/9/2010
392. Thoughts Fer The Discuraged Farmer 4/9/2010
393. Three Dead Friends 4/9/2010
394. Through Sleepy-Land 4/9/2010
395. Time 4/9/2010
396. Time Of Clearer Twitterings 4/9/2010
397. To A Boy Whistling 1/3/2003
398. To An Importunate Ghost 4/9/2010
399. To Annie 4/9/2010
400. To Hear Her Sing 4/9/2010
Best Poem of James Whitcomb Riley

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! little girl; don't cry!

There! little girl; don't cry!
They have broken your slate, I know;
And the glad, wild ways
Of your schoolgirl days
Are things of the long ago;
But life and love will soon come by. --
There! little girl; don't cry!

There! little girl; don't cry!
They have broken your heart I know;
And the rainbow gleams ...

Read the full of A Life-Lesson

Our Hired Girl

1 Our hired girl, she's 'Lizabuth Ann;
2 An' she can cook best things to eat!
3 She ist puts dough in our pie-pan,
4 An' pours in somepin' 'at's good an' sweet;
5 An' nen she salts it all on top
6 With cinnamon; an' nen she'll stop
7 An' stoop an' slide it, ist as slow,
8 In th' old cook-stove, so's 'twon't slop
9 An' git all spilled; nen bakes it, so

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