James Whitcomb Riley

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

James Whitcomb Riley Poems

81. Uncle Mart's Poem 4/9/2010
82. Waitin' Fer The Cat To Die 4/9/2010
83. Want To Be Whur Mother Is 4/9/2010
84. Wash Lowry's Reminiscence 4/9/2010
85. Wet Weather Talk 4/9/2010
86. What Chris'Mas Fetched The Wigginses 4/9/2010
87. We Must Believe 4/9/2010
88. The Drum 4/9/2010
89. What Smith Knew About Farming 4/9/2010
90. What The Wind Said 4/9/2010
91. Wait For The Morning 4/9/2010
92. To My Old Friend, William Leachman 4/9/2010
93. Them Flowers 4/9/2010
94. To Hear Her Sing 4/9/2010
95. The Train Misser 4/9/2010
96. The South Wind And The Sun 4/9/2010
97. The Shower 4/9/2010
98. The Rainy Morning 4/9/2010
99. The Rose 4/9/2010
100. The Old Year And The New 4/9/2010
101. The Lost Path 4/9/2010
102. The Little Lady 4/9/2010
103. The Hoosier Folk-Child 4/9/2010
104. The Chant Of The Cross-Bearing Child 4/9/2010
105. The Evening Company 4/9/2010
106. The Boy Patriot 4/9/2010
107. Thanksgiving 4/9/2010
108. The Bat 4/9/2010
109. Robert Burns Wilson 4/9/2010
110. Philiper Flash 4/9/2010
111. Pipes O' Pan At Zekesbury 4/9/2010
112. The Wife-Blessed 4/9/2010
113. To Annie 4/9/2010
114. The Sermon Of The Rose 4/9/2010
115. The Same Old Story 4/9/2010
116. To The Judge 4/9/2010
117. We Are Not Always Glad When We Smile 4/9/2010
118. When Age Comes On 4/9/2010
119. The Hoodoo 4/9/2010
120. The Little Town O' Tailholt 4/9/2010
Best Poem of James Whitcomb Riley

A Life-Lesson

There! little girl; don't cry!
They have broken your doll, I know;
And your tea-set blue,
And your play-house, too,
Are things of the long ago;
But childish troubles will soon pass by. --
There! little girl; don't cry!

There! little girl; don't cry!
They have broken your slate, I know;
And the glad, wild ways
Of your schoolgirl days
Are things of the long ago;
But life and love will soon come by. --
There! little girl; don't cry!

There! little girl; don't cry!
They have broken your heart I know;
And the rainbow gleams ...

Read the full of A Life-Lesson

The Ripest Peach

The ripest peach is highest on the tree --
And so her love, beyond the reach of me,
Is dearest in my sight. Sweet breezes, bow
Her heart down to me where I worship now!

She looms aloft where every eye may see
The ripest peach is highest on the tree.
Such fruitage as her love I know, alas!
I may not reach here from the orchard grass.

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