James Whitcomb Riley
Poems of James Whitcomb Riley
|442.||While The Musician Played||4/9/2010|
|443.||Who Bides His Time||1/3/2003|
|444.||Who Santy-Claus Wuz||4/9/2010|
|446.||With Hale Affection And Abiding Faith These Rhymes And Pictures Are Inscribed To The Children Everywhere||4/9/2010|
|448.||Writin' Back To The Home-Folks||4/9/2010|
The Ripest Peach
The ripest peach is highest on the tree --
And so her love, beyond the reach of me,
Is dearest in my sight. Sweet breezes, bow
Her heart down to me where I worship now!
She looms aloft where every eye may see
The ripest peach is highest on the tree.
Such fruitage as her love I know, alas!
I may not reach here from the orchard grass.