James Whitcomb Riley

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

James Whitcomb Riley Poems

241. When Lide Married _Him_ 4/9/2010
242. Autumn 4/9/2010
243. Back From A Two-Years' Sentence 4/9/2010
244. John Walsh 4/9/2010
245. He Called Her In 4/9/2010
246. Leedle Dutch Baby 4/9/2010
247. In The Dark 4/9/2010
248. Inscribed 4/9/2010
249. In The South 4/9/2010
250. A Song Of Singing 4/9/2010
251. An Autumnal Extravaganza 4/9/2010
252. Johnson's Boy 4/9/2010
253. Mr. What's-His-Name 4/9/2010
254. Mylo Jones's Wife 4/9/2010
255. A Wrangdillion 4/9/2010
256. A Variation 4/9/2010
257. When Old Jack Died 4/9/2010
258. When Bessie Died 4/9/2010
259. Billy's Alphabetical Animal Show 4/9/2010
260. Dot Leedle Boy 4/9/2010
261. Doc Sifers 4/9/2010
262. Maymie's Story Of Red Riding Hood 4/9/2010
263. Laughter Holding Both His Sides 4/9/2010
264. Kneeling With Herrick 4/9/2010
265. In The Evening 4/9/2010
266. Heat-Lightning 4/9/2010
267. Climatic Sorcery 4/9/2010
268. Noey Bixler 4/9/2010
269. Only A Dream 4/9/2010
270. North And South 4/9/2010
271. John Brown 4/9/2010
272. Lines For An Album 4/9/2010
273. An Old Friend 4/9/2010
274. A Prospective Visit 4/9/2010
275. Dead In Sight Of Fame 4/9/2010
276. Dead Leaves 4/9/2010
277. Morton 4/9/2010
278. Old Fashioned Roses 4/9/2010
279. Gratefully And Affectionately Inscribed To Joel Chandler Harris 4/9/2010
280. From The Headboard Of A Grave In Paraguay 4/9/2010

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.

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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

A Parting Guest

What delightful hosts are they --
   Life and Love!
Lingeringly I turn away,
   This late hour, yet glad enough
They have not withheld from me
   Their high hospitality.
So, with face lit with delight
   And all gratitude, I stay
   Yet to press their hands and say,

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