James Whitcomb Riley Poems

I am not prone to moralize
In scientific doubt
On certain facts that Nature tries
To puzzle us about,--
...

A song of Long Ago:
Sing it lightly--sing it low--
Sing it softly--like the lisping of the lips we used to know
When our baby-laughter spilled
...

'I'm home again, my dear old Room,
I'm home again, and happy, too,
As, peering through the brightening gloom,
I find myself alone with you:
...

Sir Launcelot rode overthwart and endlong in a wide forest, and held no
path but as wild adventure led him... And he returned and came again to his
...

I

A little boy once played so loud
That the Thunder, up in a thunder-cloud,
...

When June is here--what art have we to sing
The whiteness of the lilies midst the green
Of noon-tranced lawns? Or flash of roses seen
...

All listlessly we float
Out seaward in the boat
...

And there, in that ripe Summer-night, once more
A wintry coolness through the open door
And window seemed to touch each glowing face
...

A troth, and a grief, and a blessing,
Disguised them and came this way--,
And one was a promise, and one was a doubt,
And one was a rainy day.
...

_You who to the rounded prime_
_Of a life of toil and stress_,
_Still have kept the morning-time_
_Of glad youth in heart and spirit_,
...