James Whitcomb Riley Poems

I
Winter without
And warmth within;
The winds may shout
...

My dear old friends--It jes beats all,
The way you write a letter
So's ever' _last_ line beats the _first_,
...

Just to be good--
This is enough--enough!
O we who find sin's billows wild and rough,
Do we not feel how more than any gold
...

How slight a thing may set one's fancy drifting
Upon the dead sea of the Past!--A view--
Sometimes an odor--or a rooster lifting
...

In childish days! O memory,
You bring such curious things to me!--
...

Tomps 'ud allus haf to say
Somepin' 'bout 'his mother's way.'--
_He_ lived hard-like--never jined
Any church of any kind.--
...

Such a dear little street it is, nestled away
From the noise of the city and heat of the day,
In cool shady coverts of whispering trees,
...

Old friend of mine, whose chiming name
Has been the burthen of a rhyme
Within my heart since first I came
To know thee in thy mellow prime;
...

Her heart knew naught of sorrow,
Nor the vaguest taint of sin--
'Twas an ever-blooming blossom
Of the purity within:
...

I want to sing something-- but this is all--
I try and I try, but the rhymes are dull
As though they were damp, and the echoes fall
...