James Whitcomb Riley

“ Beside her, as she brightened up the fire.
She urged—for the old fox's sake and theirs—
That they be taken back to the old tree;
But father—for our wistful sakes, no doubt—
Said we would keep them, and would try our best
To raise them. ”

“ And, all the rest of you, range round someway,—
Ride on the rockers and hang to the arms
Of our old-time splint-bottom carryall!—
Do anything but squabble for a place,
Or push or shove or scrouge, or breathe out loud,
Or chew wet, or knead taffy in my beard!—
Do anything almost—act anyway,—
Only keep still, so I can hear myself
Trying to tell you "just one story more!"
One winter afternoon my father, with
A whistle to our dog, a shout to us—
His two boys—six and eight years old we were,—
Started off to the woods, a half a mile
From home, where he was chopping wood. ”

“ Keen on the trail, were soon far in the woods.
Our old dog, "Ring," ran nosing the fresh track
With whimpering delight, far on ahead.
After following the trail more than a mile
To northward, through the thickest winter woods
We boys had ever seen,—all suddenly
He seemed to strike another trail; and then
Our joyful attention was drawn to
Old "Ring"—leaping to this side, then to that,
Of a big, hollow, old oak-tree, which had
Been blown down by a storm some years before.
There—all at once—out leapt a lean old fox
From the black hollow of a big bent limb,—
Hey! ”

“ Marching out of Morning-Land, over dale and down:
Some go a-gypsying out in country places—
Out through the orchards, with blossoms on the boughs
Wild, sweet, and pink and white as their own glad faces;
And some go, at evening, calling home the cows.
Where go the children? Travelling! Travelling!
Where go the children, travelling ahead?
Some go to foreign wars, and camps by the firelight—
Some go to glory so; and some go to bed!
Some go through grassy lanes leading to the city—
[12]
Thinner grow the green trees and thicker grows the dust ”

“ We'll all march off with Billy an' his bom! bim! bam!
Come hurrawin' as you come,
Er they'll think you're deef-an'-dumb
Ef you don't hear little Billy an' his big bass drum!
[64]
THE NOBLE OLD ELM
O big old tree, so tall an' fine,
Where all us childern swings an' plays,
Though neighbers says you're on the line
Between Pa's house an' Mr. Gray's,—
Us childern used to almost fuss,
Old Tree, about you when we 'd play.—
We'd argy you belonged to us,
An' them Gray-kids the other way! ”

“ How glad he'll be to hear that she
"Toock the onners in Speling."
Uncle he learns us to rhyme an' write
An' all be poets an' all recite:
His little-est poet's his little-est niece,
An' this is her little-est poetry-piece.
[116]
III SINGS A "WINKY-TOODEN" SONG—
O here's a little rhyme for the Spring- or Summer-time—
An a-ho-winky-tooden-an-a-ho!—
Just a little bit o' tune you can twitter, May or June,
An a-ho-winky-tooden-an-a-ho! ”

“ BILLY AND HIS DRUM
Ho! it's come, kids, come!
"With a bim! bam! bum!
Here's little Billy bangin' on his big bass drum!
He's a-marchin' round the room,
With his feather-duster plume
A-noddin' an' a-bobbin' with his bim! bom! boom!
Looky, little Jane an' Jim!
Will you only look at him,
A-humpin' an' a-thumpin' with his bam! bom! bim!
Has the Day o' Judgment come
Er the New Mi-len-nee-um?
Er is it only Billy with his bim! bam! bim!
[61] "He's a-marchin' round the room."
[62]
[63]
I 'm a-comin' ”

“ THE RAMBO-TREE
FIND THE FAVORITE
THE BOY PATRIOT
EXTREMES
INTELLECTUAL LIMITATIONS
A MASQUE OF THE SEASONS
THOMAS THE PRETENDER
LITTLE DICK AND THE CLOCK
[x] FOOL-YOUNGENS
THE KATYDIDS
BILLY AND HIS DRUM
THE NOBLE OLD ELM
THE PENALTY OF GENIUS
EVENSONG
THE TWINS
THE LITTLE LADY
"COMPANY MANNERS"
IN FERVENT PRAISE OF PICNICS
THE GOOD, OLD-FASHIONED PEOPLE
THE BEST TIMES
"HIK-TEE-DIK!" ”

“ All out-o'-doors, our "Old-Kriss"-milkman goes
A-drivin' round, ist purt'-nigh froze to death,
With his old white mustache froze full o' breath.
But when it's summer an' all warm ag'in,
He comes a-whistlin' an' a-drivin in
Our alley, 'thout no coat on, ner ain't cold,
Ner his mustache ain't white, ner he ain't old.
[169] "Our 'Old-Kriss'-milkman."
[170]
[171]
A PARENT REPRIMANDED
Sometimes I think 'at Parents does
Things ist about as bad as us ”