James Whitcomb Riley

“ The world was having a jollier time
Than it ever will have again.
AT SEA
O we go down to sea in ships—
But Hope remains behind,
And Love, with laughter on his lips,
And Peace, of passive mind;
While out across the deeps of night,
With lifted sails of prayer,
We voyage off in quest of light,
Nor find it anywhere.
O Thou who wroughtest earth and sea,
Yet keepest from our eyes
The shores of an eternity
In calms of Paradise,
Blow back upon our foolish quest
With all the driving rain
Of blinding tears and wild unrest,
And waft us home again. ”

“ Once bowed o'er my own in the old trundle-bed.
WHO BIDES HIS TIME
Who bides his time, and day by day
Faces defeat full patiently,
And lifts a mirthful roundelay,
However poor his fortunes be,—
He will not fail in any qualm
Of poverty—the paltry clime
It will grow golden in his palm,
Who bides his time.
Who bides his time—he tastes the sweet
Of honey in the saltest tear ”

“ As I'll never climb thare by that rout' any more—
What was all the green lauruls of Fame unto me,
With my brows in the boughs of the mulberry tree!
Then it's who can fergit the old mulberry tree
That he knowed in the days when his thoughts was as free
As the flutterin' wings of the birds that flew out
Of the tall wavin' tops as the boys come about?
O, a crowd of my memories, laughin' and gay,
Is a-climbin' the fence of that pastur' to-day,
And, a-pantin' with joy, as us boys ust to be,
They go racin' acrost fer the mulberry tree. ”

“ The voice of praise may never reach.
"For lips and eyes in truth's disguise
Confuse the faces of my friends,
Till old affection's fondest ties
I find unraveling at the ends;
But as I turn to you, and learn
To meet my griefs with less concern,
Your love seems all I have to keep
Me smiling lest I needs must weep.
"Yet I am happy, and would fain
Forget the world and all its woes;
So set me to my tasks again,
Old Room, and lull me to repose:
And as we glide adown the tide
Of dreams, forever side by side,
I'll hold your hands as lovers do
Their sweethearts' and talk love to you." ”

“ Where fond hearts must be wept out tear by tear,
And where to wear wet lashes means, at best,
When most our lack, the least our hope of rest—
When most our need of joy, the more our pain—
We must get home—we must get home again! ”

“ Frowned as he passed, and his eyes were black."
O who will tell me of Love? I cry!
His eyes are as blue as the mid-May sky,
And his face as bright as the morning sun;
And you answer and mock me, every one,
That his eyes were dark, and his face was wan,
And he passed you frowning and wandered on.
But stout of heart will I onward fare,
Knowing
my
Love is beyond—somewhere,—
The Love I seek, with the eyes of blue,
And the bright, sweet smile unknown of you ”

“ Of my tears to this fair hour.
O the present is too sweet
To go on forever thus!
Round the corner of the street
Who can say what waits for us?—
Meeting—greeting, night and day,
Faring each the selfsame way—
Still somewhere the path must end.—
Reach your hand to me, my friend!
TO MY OLD FRIEND, WILLIAM LEACHMAM
Fer forty year and better you have been a friend to me,
Through days of sore afflictions and dire adversity,
You allus had a kind word of counsul to impart,
Which was like a healin' 'intment to the sorrow of my hart. ”

“ We must get home, where, as we nod and drowse,
Time humors us and tiptoes through the house,
And loves us best when sleeping baby-wise,
With dreams—not tear-drops—brimming our clenched eyes,—
Pure dreams that know nor taint nor earthly stain—
We must get home—we must get home again! ”

“ We must believe—
Impelled since infancy to seek some clear
Fulfillment, still withheld all seekers here;—
For never have we seen perfection nor
The glory we are ever seeking for:
But we
have
seen—all mortal souls as one—
Have seen its
promise
, in the morning sun—
Its blest assurance, in the stars of night;—
The ever-dawning of the dark to light;—
The tears down-falling from all eyes that grieve—
The eyes uplifting from all deeps of grief,
Yearning for what at last we shall receive.... ”

“ With folded eyes, too glad to weep
And yet too sad for dreams or sleep.
"You've been so kind to me, old Room—
So patient in your tender care,
My drooping heart in fullest bloom
Has blossomed for you unaware;
And who but you had cared to woo
A heart so dark, and heavy, too,
As in the past you lifted mine
From out the shadow to the shine? ”

“ Leanin' up in the forks, I can see the old rail,
And the boy climbin' up it, claw, tooth, and toe-nail,
And in fancy can hear, as he spits on his hands,
The ring of his laugh and the rip of his pants. ”

“ We are not always glad when we smile,—
For the heart, in a tempest of pain,
May live in the guise
Of a smile in the eyes
As a rainbow may live in the rain;
And the stormiest night of our woe
May hang out a radiant star
Whose light in the sky
Of despair is a lie
As black as the thunder-clouds are. ”

“ The clear, laughing eyes looking back in my own,
And the warm, chubby fingers my palms have so wanted,
As when we raced over
Pink pastures of clover,
And mocked the quail's whir and the bumblebee's drone?
Have the breezes of time blown their blossomy faces
Forever adrift down the years that are flown? ”

“ To melt in tears the quicker.
We reach the wrong when most we seek
The right; in like effect,
We stay the strong and not the weak—
Do most when we neglect.—
Neglected genius—truth be said—
As wild and quick as tinder,
The more we seek to help ahead
The more we seem to hinder. ”

“ With the gilded collar and yellow eyes,
Looked just as at first, when I hugged myself
Sound asleep with the dear surprise.
And down to the swing in the locust tree,
Where the grass was worn from the trampled ground
And where "Eck" Skinner, "Old" Carr, and three
Or four such other boys used to be
Doin' "sky-scrapers," or "whirlin' round:"
And again Bob climbed for the bluebird's nest,
And again "had shows" in the buggy-shed
Of Guymon's barn, where still, unguessed,
The old ghosts romp through the best days dead! ”

“ And helpful hands, and honest eyes,
If smiles or tears be there:
Who lives for you and me—
Lives for the world he tries
To help—he lives eternally.
A good man never dies.
II
Who lives to bravely take
His share of toil and stress,
And, for his weaker fellows' sake,
Makes every burden less,—
He may, at last, seem worn—
Lie fallen—hands and eyes
Folded—yet, though we mourn and mourn,
A good man never dies. ”

“ Fer the name of William Leachman and True Manhood's jest the same!
A BACKWARD LOOK
As I sat smoking, alone, yesterday,
And lazily leaning back in my chair,
Enjoying myself in a general way—
Allowing my thoughts a holiday
From weariness, toil and care,—
My fancies—doubtless, for ventilation—
Left ajar the gates of my mind,—
And Memory, seeing the situation,
Slipped out in street of "Auld Lang Syne."
Wandering ever with tireless feet
Through scenes of silence, and jubilee
Of long-hushed voices; and faces sweet
Were thronging the shadowy side of the street
As far as the eye could see ”

“ He lives the life he is preaching of,
And loves where most is the need of love;
His voice is clear to the deaf man's ears,
And his face sublime through the blind man's tears;
The light shines out where the clouds were dim,
And the widow's prayer goes up for him ”

“ Is it the eyes and the cheeks ablaze—
Like my own wuz, long ago?—
Is it the bleat o' the whistle and beat
O' the little toy-drum and blare
O' the horn?—
No! no!
—it is jest the sweet—
The sad-sweet feel in the air.
AS CREATED
There's a space for good to bloom in
Every heart of man or woman,—
And however wild or human,
Or however brimmed with gall,
Never heart may beat without it ”

“ Till, last, on her bed of pain,
She jes' smiled up, like she always done,—
And I said "Good-by" again.
It's
got
to be, and it's
goin'
to be!
So at least I always try
To kind o' say, in a humble way,—
"Well, it's got to be. Good-by!"
And then my boy—as he growed to be
Almost a man in size,—
Was more than a pride and joy to me,
With his mother's smilin' eyes.—
He gimme the slip, when the War broke out,
And followed me. And I
Never knowed till the first right's end ... ”

“ And, knowing this, as we grasp his hand,
We are surely coming to understand!
He looks on sin with pitying eyes—
E'en as the Lord, since Paradise,—
Else, should we read, "Though our sins should glow
As scarlet, they shall be white as snow"?—
And, feeling still, with a grief half glad,
That the bad are as good as the good are bad,
He strikes straight out for the Right—and he
Is the kind of a man for you and me!
"HOW DID YOU REST, LAST NIGHT?"
"How did you rest, last night?"—
I've heard my gran'pap say
Them words a thousand times—that's right—
Jes them words thataway! ”

“ I've thought a power on men and things,
As my uncle ust to say,—
And ef folks don't work as they pray, i jings!
W'y, they ain't no use to pray!
Ef you want somepin', and jes dead-set
A-pleadin' fer it with both eyes wet,
And
tears
won't bring it, w'y, you try
sweat
,
As my uncle ust to say.
They's some don't know their A, B, C's,
As my uncle ust to say,
And yit don't waste no candle-grease,
Ner whistle their lives away!
But ef they can't write no book, ner rhyme
No singin' song fer to last all time,
They can blaze the way fer the march sublime,
As my uncle ust to say. ”

“ He could git ever'thing but his breath—
"
You fellers
," he'd sorto' twinkle his eyes and say,
"Is a-pilin' onto me
A mighty big debt fer that-air little weak-chested
ghost o' mine to pack
Through all Eternity!"
Now there was a man 'at jes 'peared-like, to me,
'At ortn't a-never a-died!
"But death hain't a-showin' no favors," the old boss
said—
"On'y to Jim!" and cried:
And Wigger, who puts up the best sewed-work in the
shop—
Er the whole blame neighborhood,—
He says, "When God made Jim, I bet you He didn't do
anything else that day
But jes set around and feel good!" ”

“ And "blaze" a road fer them behind that had to travel thare.
And now we was a-trottin' 'long a level gravel pike,
In a big two-hoss road-wagon, jest as easy as you like—
Two of us on the front seat, and our wimmern-folks behind,
A-settin' in theyr Winsor-cheers in perfect peace of mind!
And we pinted out old landmarks, nearly faded out of sight:—
Thare they ust to rob the stage-coach; thare Gash Morgan had the fight
With the old stag-deer that pronged him—how he battled fer his life,
And lived to prove the story by the handle of his knife. ”

“ You a-talkin'—me a-thinkin' of the summers long ago,
And a-writin' "Marthy—Marthy" with my finger in the snow!
William Leachman, I can see you jest as plane as I could then;
And your hand is on my shoulder, and you rouse me up again,
And I see the tears a-drippin' from your own eyes, as you say:
"Be rickonciled and bear it—we but linger fer a day!"
At the last Old Settlers' Meetin' we went j'intly, you and me—
Your hosses and my wagon, as you wanted it to be;
And sence I can remember, from the time we've neghbored here,
In all sich friendly actions you have double-done your sheer. ”

“ As my uncle ust to say,
He knows each job 'at we're best fit fer,
And our round-up, night and day:
And a-sizin'
His
work, east and west,
And north and south, and worst and best.
I ain't got nothin' to suggest,
As my uncle ust to say. ”

“ THINKIN' BACK
31
THROUGH SLEEPY-LAND
170
TO MY OLD FRIEND, WILLIAM LEACHMAN
145
TO THE JUDGE
177
WE MUST BELIEVE
130
WE MUST GET HOME
19
WHERE-AWAY
57
WHO BIDES HIS TIME
68
WRITIN' BACK TO THE HOME-FOLKS
76
RILEY SONGS OF HOME
WE MUST GET HOME
We must get home! How could we stray like this?—
So far from home, we know not where it is,—
Only in some fair, apple-blossomy place
Of children's faces—and the mother's face—
We dimly dream it, till the vision clears
Even in the eyes of fancy, glad with tears.
We must get home—for we have been away
So long, it seems forever and a day! ”

“ You can't use
all
the right-o'-way!"—fer that wuz what they said!—
But, jes the same,—in spite of all 'at you call "interprise
And prog-gress of you-folks Today," we're all of fambly-ties—
We're all got feelin's fittin' fer the tears 'at's in our eyes
Er the smiles afore our dancin'-days is over. ”

“ Thare the first griss-mill was put up in the Settlement, and we
Had tuck our grindin' to it in the Fall of Forty-three—
When we tuck our rifles with us, techin' elbows all the way,
And a-stickin' right together ev'ry minute, night and day.
Thare ust to stand the tavern that they called the "Travelers' Rest,"
And thare, beyent the covered bridge, "The Counter-fitters' Nest"—
Whare they claimed the house was ha'nted—that a man was murdered thare,
And burried underneath the floor, er 'round the place somewhare. ”

“ HONEY DRIPPING FROM THE COMB
125
"HOW DID YOU REST, LAST NIGHT?"
94
IN THE EVENING
115
IT'S GOT TO BE
107
JACK-IN-THE-BOX
100
JIM
117
JOHN MCKEEN
165
JUST TO BE GOOD
26
KNEELING WITH HERRICK
138
LAUGHTER HOLDING BOTH HIS SIDES
81
MULBERRY TREE, THE
46
MY DANCIN' DAYS IS OVER
184
MY FRIEND
29
NATURAL PERVERSITIES
70
NOT ALWAYS GLAD WHEN WE SMILE
36
OLD DAYS, THE
135
OLD GUITAR, THE
161
OLD TRUNDLE-BED, THE
64
OUR BOYHOOD HAUNTS
182
OUR KIND OF A MAN
92
OUR OWN
63
"OUT OF REACH?" ”