James Whitcomb Riley
Where are they?--the friends of my childhood enchanted--
The clear, laughing eyes looking back in my own,
And the warm, chubby fingers my palms have so wanted,
As when we raced over
Pink pastures of clover,
And mocked the quail's whir and the bumblebee's drone?
Have the breezes of time blown their blossomy faces
Forever adrift down the years that are flown?
Am I never to see them romp back to their places,
Where over the meadow,
In sunshine and shadow,
The meadow-larks trill, and the bumblebees drone?
Where are they? Ah! dim in the dust lies the clover;
The whippoorwill's call has a sorrowful tone,
And the dove's--I have wept at it over and over;--
I want the glad luster
Of youth, and the cluster
Of faces asleep where the bumblebees drone!
James Whitcomb Riley's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (The Boys by James Whitcomb Riley )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
- My Gown Of Dust, Rex mayor Ubini
- Dear God, Tara Stano
- Importance Of Nothing, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- falling dead, Afrodita Alkline
- Monsoon Showers, Jaipal Singh
- My legs and my hands, gajanan mishra
- Perfectly Imperfect Poetry, Marvin Brato Sr
- Hands Thrown Up, I Am Krakatoa
- The truth about lies, kelvin alexander
- Many Men, Afrodita Alkline