James Whitcomb Riley

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

Thoughts Fer The Discuraged Farmer


The summer winds is sniffin' round the bloomin'
locus' trees;
And the clover in the pastur is a big day fer the bees,
And they been a-swiggin' honey, above board and on the
sly,
Tel they stutter in theyr buzzin' and stagger as they fly.
The flicker on the fence-rail 'pears to jest spit on his
wings
And roll up his feathers, by the sassy way he sings;
And the hoss-fly is a-whettin'-up his forelegs fer biz,
And the off-mare is a-switchin' all of her tale they is.

You can hear the blackbirds jawin' as they foller up the
plow--
Oh, theyr bound to git theyr brekfast, and theyr not
a-carin' how;
So they quarrel in the furries, and they quarrel on the
wing--
But theyr peaceabler in pot-pies than any other thing:
And it's when I git my shotgun drawed up in stiddy rest,
She's as full of tribbelation as a yeller-jacket's nest;
And a few shots before dinner, when the sun's a-shinin'
right,
Seems to kindo'-sorto' sharpen up a feller's appetite!

They's been a heap o' rain, but the sun's out to-day,
And the clouds of the wet spell is all cleared away,
And the woods is all the greener, and the grass is greener
still;
It may rain again to-morry, but I don't think it will.
Some says the crops is ruined, and the corn's drownded
out,
And propha-sy the wheat will be a failure, without doubt;
But the kind Providence that has never failed us yet,
Will be on hands onc't more at the 'leventh hour, I bet!

Does the medder-lark complane, as he swims high and
dry
Through the waves of the wind and the blue of the sky?
Does the quail set up and whissel in a disappinted way,
Er hang his head in silunce, and sorrow all the day?
Is the chipmuck's health a-failin'?--Does he walk, er does
he run?
Don't the buzzards ooze around up thare just like they've
allus done?
Is they anything the matter with the rooster's lungs er
voice?
Ort a mortul be complainin' when dumb animals rejoice?

Then let us, one and all, be contentud with our lot;
The June is here this morning, and the sun is shining hot.
Oh! let us fill our harts up with the glory of the day,
And banish ev'ry doubt and care and sorrow fur away!
Whatever be our station, with Providence fer guide,
Sich fine circumstances ort to make us satisfied;
Fer the world is full of roses, and the roses full of dew,
And the dew is full of heavenly love that drips fer me
and you.

Submitted: Friday, April 09, 2010

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

What do you think this poem is about?



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Thoughts Fer The Discuraged Farmer by James Whitcomb Riley )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. The Obvious, Lawrence S. Pertillar
  2. Split-second, Marshall Gass
  3. Refusing To Wear Masks, Lawrence S. Pertillar
  4. She- the Lighthouse!, Marshall Gass
  5. apex, Cee Bea
  6. Darkness, Kumar Aggarwal
  7. comets wait for us, because we're sort o.., Mandolyn ...
  8. Racers, Nassy Fesharaki
  9. In the memory of Faez, Nassy Fesharaki
  10. I Turned on the News Today, Vera Sidhwa

Poem of the Day

poet William Butler Yeats

WINE comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That's all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
...... Read complete »

 

Modern Poem

poet Anna Akhmatova

 

Member Poem

poet Sumita Datta

Trending Poems

  1. The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
  2. Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
  3. Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
  4. A Drinking Song, William Butler Yeats
  5. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
  6. Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
  7. Daffodils, William Wordsworth
  8. Dreams, Langston Hughes
  9. Nothing Gold Can Stay, Robert Frost
  10. Fire and Ice, Robert Frost

Trending Poets

[Hata Bildir]