James Whitcomb Riley

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

James Whitcomb Riley Poems

161. The Willow 1/3/2003
162. In Bohemia 4/9/2010
163. The Song Of Yesterday 1/3/2003
164. We To Sigh Instead Of Sing 1/3/2003
165. To A Boy Whistling 1/3/2003
166. There Was A Cherry-Tree 1/3/2003
167. Little Dick And The Clock 4/9/2010
168. In Fervent Praise Of Picnics 4/9/2010
169. Herr Weiser 4/9/2010
170. Her Waiting Face 4/9/2010
171. Floretty's Musical Contribution 4/9/2010
172. His Mother 4/9/2010
173. Farmer Whipple--Bachelor 4/9/2010
174. George Mullen's Confession 4/9/2010
175. Last Night-- And This 4/9/2010
176. Blooms Of May 4/9/2010
177. Bryant 4/9/2010
178. By Her White Bed 4/9/2010
179. Billy And His Drum 4/9/2010
180. At Noon--And Midnight 4/9/2010
181. Find The Favorite 4/9/2010
182. Job Work 4/9/2010
183. The Merman 1/3/2003
184. As My Uncle Used To Say 4/9/2010
185. At Last 4/9/2010
186. At Noey's House 4/9/2010
187. At Utter Loaf 4/9/2010
188. Jap Miller 4/9/2010
189. John Mckeen 4/9/2010
190. Joney 4/9/2010
191. Judith 4/9/2010
192. June At Woodruff 4/9/2010
193. Kingry's Mill 4/9/2010
194. Fool-Youngens 4/9/2010
195. For You 4/9/2010
196. Leonainie 4/9/2010
197. Man's Devotion 4/9/2010
198. Go Winter! 4/9/2010
199. August 4/9/2010
200. Bewildering Emotions 4/9/2010

Comments about James Whitcomb Riley

  • nariah (11/22/2017 9:21:00 AM)

    I love little orphan annie poet you wrote so I just want to say I love your interest in this poem

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  • Jules Levin (11/15/2013 11:13:00 AM)

    I am looking for the date of writing/publishing for each poem and could not find it on the site.
    Am I overlooking something obvious?

  • Joybaby John (11/1/2012 6:57:00 AM)

    I am miss joy by name, Is my pleasure to contact you after going through your profile at /www.poemhunter.com which really interest me in having communication with you. I will appreciate if you can write me back (joybabyjohn25@yahoo.co.uk) for easiest communication and to know more about each other so that i will explain myself to you and also send my picture to you.
    Take care and have a nice day.
    I await hearing from you soonest.
    Yours truly


  • Catharine Dee (3/10/2012 2:21:00 PM)

    Date of birth listed above is wrong. It's October 7th not the 9th.

  • Stella Mary (1/3/2012 5:00:00 AM)

    I read your poems and it was good.

  • Tony Judson (9/15/2006 8:21:00 AM)

    James I read your 'poem of the day' and I think it is brilliant! your sense of rythmn & rhyme is beautiful and your poetic license with spelling and alliteration is superb.
    It makes wish I could have been the fly on the wall in a meeting between you and the late Ogden Nash- Keep it up Cheers Tony Judson

  • 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.

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.

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