James Whitcomb Riley

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

James Whitcomb Riley Poems

81. The Song Of Yesterday 1/3/2003
82. The Singer 4/9/2010
83. The Silent Victors 4/9/2010
84. The Shower 4/9/2010
85. The Shoemaker 4/9/2010
86. The Sermon Of The Rose 4/9/2010
87. The Serenade 4/9/2010
88. The Same Old Story 4/9/2010
89. The Runaway Boy 4/9/2010
90. The Rose 4/9/2010
91. The Rival 1/4/2003
92. The Ripest Peach 1/3/2003
93. The Rider Of The Knee 4/9/2010
94. The Rapture Of The Year 1/3/2003
95. The Rambo-Tree 4/9/2010
96. The Rainy Morning 4/9/2010
97. The Rain 4/9/2010
98. The Raggedy Man 12/31/2002
99. The Quiet Lodger 4/9/2010
100. The Quest 4/9/2010
101. The Plaint Human 4/9/2010
102. The Pixy People 4/9/2010
103. The Pet Coon 4/9/2010
104. The Pathos Of Applause 4/9/2010
105. The Passing Of A Heart 4/9/2010
106. The Orchard Lands Of Long Ago 4/9/2010
107. The Old-Home Folks 4/9/2010
108. The Old Year And The New 4/9/2010
109. The Old Trundle-Bed 4/9/2010
110. The Old Tramp 4/9/2010
111. The Old Times Were The Best 1/3/2003
112. The Old Swimmin' Hole 12/31/2002
113. The Old Retired Sea Captain 4/9/2010
114. The Old Home By The Mill 4/9/2010
115. The Old Hay-Mow 4/9/2010
116. The Old Guitar 1/3/2003
117. The Old Days 4/9/2010
118. The Nine Little Goblins 4/9/2010
119. The Mulberry Tree 4/9/2010
120. The Merman 1/3/2003
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

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.

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