James Whitcomb Riley

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

James Whitcomb Riley Poems

121. Right Here At Home 4/9/2010
122. Red Riding-Hood 4/9/2010
123. The Old Trundle-Bed 4/9/2010
124. The Lugubrious Whing-Whang 4/9/2010
125. The Pixy People 4/9/2010
126. The Rain 4/9/2010
127. The Lost Kiss 4/9/2010
128. The Watches Of The Night 4/9/2010
129. The Runaway Boy 4/9/2010
130. The Happy Little Cripple 4/9/2010
131. The Old Home By The Mill 4/9/2010
132. The Circus-Day Parade 4/9/2010
133. The Blossoms On The Trees 4/9/2010
134. The Best Is Good Enough 4/9/2010
135. The Cyclone 4/9/2010
136. The Mulberry Tree 4/9/2010
137. The Little Lady 4/9/2010
138. Squire Hawkins's Story 4/9/2010
139. Up And Down Old Brandywine 4/9/2010
140. To Robert Burns 4/9/2010
141. The Treasure Of The Wise Man 4/9/2010
142. The Lost Thrill 4/9/2010
143. The Little Fat Doctor 4/9/2010
144. The Legend Glorified 4/9/2010
145. The Old Hay-Mow 4/9/2010
146. Say Something To Me 4/9/2010
147. The Good, Old-Fashioned People 4/9/2010
148. The Funny Little Fellow 4/9/2010
149. The Brook-Song 4/9/2010
150. Song Of Parting 4/9/2010
151. The Iron Horse 4/9/2010
152. The Days Gone By 4/9/2010
153. The Sphinx 4/9/2010
154. The Old Retired Sea Captain 4/9/2010
155. We Must Get Home 4/9/2010
156. The Home-Going 4/9/2010
157. The Nine Little Goblins 4/9/2010
158. The Rival 1/4/2003
159. The Rapture Of The Year 1/3/2003
160. The Willow 1/3/2003

Comments about James Whitcomb Riley

  • Carolyn Binkley (10/6/2005 6:47:00 PM)

    James Whitcomb Riley is by far one of my favorite poets of all time. I love his imagery, his imagination, his rhyme and rhythm. And most of all I love his sense of 'simple' and his connection to the nature in all of us. He cleverly plays with that which is real, unlike Lewis Carroll who cleverly plays with that which is not.

    24 person liked.
    11 person did not like.
Best Poem of James Whitcomb Riley

When The Frost Is On The Punkin

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock
And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey cock
And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hens
And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence
O, it's then's the times a feller is a-feelin' at his best
With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest
As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock

They's something kindo' harty-like about the atmusfere
When the heat of...

Read the full of When The Frost Is On The Punkin

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.

[Report Error]