James Whitcomb Riley

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

James Whitcomb Riley Poems

121. Elizabeth 4/9/2010
122. Elmer Brown 4/9/2010
123. Even Song 4/9/2010
124. Extremes 4/9/2010
125. Fame 4/9/2010
126. Farmer Whipple--Bachelor 4/9/2010
127. Father William 4/9/2010
128. Find The Favorite 4/9/2010
129. Floretty's Musical Contribution 4/9/2010
130. Fool-Youngens 4/9/2010
131. For You 4/9/2010
132. Friday Afternoon 4/9/2010
133. From The Headboard Of A Grave In Paraguay 4/9/2010
134. George Mullen's Confession 4/9/2010
135. Go Winter! 4/9/2010
136. Grandfather Squeers 4/9/2010
137. Granny 12/31/2002
138. Grant At Rest-- August 8, 1885 4/9/2010
139. Gratefully And Affectionately Inscribed To Joel Chandler Harris 4/9/2010
140. Green Fields And Running Brooks 4/9/2010
141. Griggsby's Station 4/9/2010
142. Harlie 4/9/2010
143. Has She Forgotten? 4/9/2010
144. He And I 4/9/2010
145. He Called Her In 4/9/2010
146. Heat-Lightning 4/9/2010
147. Her Beautiful Eyes 4/9/2010
148. Her Beautiful Hands 4/9/2010
149. Her Face And Brow 4/9/2010
150. Her Hair 4/9/2010
151. Her Waiting Face 4/9/2010
152. Herr Weiser 4/9/2010
153. Hik-Tee-Dik! 4/9/2010
154. His Mother 4/9/2010
155. His Mother's Way 4/9/2010
156. His Room 4/9/2010
157. His Vigil 4/9/2010
158. Home At Night 4/9/2010
159. Honey Dripping From The Comb 4/9/2010
160. How Did You Rest, Last Night? 4/9/2010
Best Poem of James Whitcomb Riley

When The Frost Is On The Punkin

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock
And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey cock
And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hens
And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence
O, it's then's the times a feller is a-feelin' at his best
With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest
As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock

They's something kindo' harty-like about the atmusfere
When the heat of...

Read the full of When The Frost Is On The Punkin

A Parting Guest

What delightful hosts are they --
   Life and Love!
Lingeringly I turn away,
   This late hour, yet glad enough
They have not withheld from me
   Their high hospitality.
So, with face lit with delight
   And all gratitude, I stay
   Yet to press their hands and say,

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