James Whitcomb Riley
James Whitcomb Riley Poems
|442.||A Poet's Wooing||1/3/2003|
|443.||A Noon Interval||1/3/2003|
|444.||A Cup Of Tea||4/9/2010|
|445.||Knee-Deep In June||1/3/2003|
|446.||A Summer Afternoon||1/3/2003|
|447.||When The Frost Is On The Punkin||12/31/2002|
|448.||A Barefoot Boy||12/31/2002|
|449.||Little Orphant Annie||12/31/2002|
A Summer Afternoon
A languid atmosphere, a lazy breeze,
With labored respiration, moves the wheat
From distant reaches, till the golden seas
Break in crisp whispers at my feet.
My book, neglected of an idle mind,
Hides for a moment from the eyes of men;
Or lightly opened by a critic wind,
Affrightedly reviews itself again.
Off through the haze that dances in the shine
The warm sun showers in the open glade,
The forest lies, a silhouette design
Dimmed through and through with shade.
A dreamy day; and tranquilly I lie
At anchor from all storms of mental ...
Our Hired Girl
1 Our hired girl, she's 'Lizabuth Ann;
2 An' she can cook best things to eat!
3 She ist puts dough in our pie-pan,
4 An' pours in somepin' 'at's good an' sweet;
5 An' nen she salts it all on top
6 With cinnamon; an' nen she'll stop
7 An' stoop an' slide it, ist as slow,
8 In th' old cook-stove, so's 'twon't slop
9 An' git all spilled; nen bakes it, so