James Whitcomb Riley Poems

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!
...

In its color, shade and shine,
'T was a summer warm as wine,
With an effervescent flavoring of flowered bough and vine,
...

When Lide married _him_--w'y, she had to jes dee-fy
The whole poppilation!--But she never bat' an eye!
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_He owns the bird-songs of the hills--
The laughter of the April rills;
And his are all the diamonds set
In Morning's dewy coronet,--
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Old wortermelon time is a-comin' round again,
And they ain't no man a-livin' any tickleder'n me,
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We're The Twins from Aunt Marinn's,
Igo and Ago.
When Dad comes, the show begins!--
Iram, coram, dago.
...

I find an old deserted nest,
Half-hidden in the underbrush:
A withered leaf, in phantom jest,
Has nestled in it like a thrush
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Close the book and dim the light,
I shall read no more to-night.
No--I am not sleepy, dear--
Do not go: sit by me here
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Illileo, the moonlight seemed lost across the vales--
The stars but strewed the azure as an armor's scattered scales;
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Nobody on the old farm here but Mother, me and John,
Except, of course, the extry he'p when harvest-time come on-
...