Section: «Poems»
Verse (ancient Greek ὁ στίχος — row, structure), a term in versification used in several meanings:
artistic speech organized by division into rhythmically commensurate segments; poetry in the narrow sense; in particular, it implies the properties of versification of a particular tradition ("antique verse", "Akhmatova's verse", etc.);
a line of poetic text organized according to a certain rhythmic pattern ("My uncle of the most honest rules").
Waitin' Fer The Cat To Die
Lawzy! don't I rickollectThat-'air old swing in the lane!Right and proper, I expect,Old times _can't_ come back again;But I want to state, ef..
© James Whitcomb Riley
Their Sweet Sorrow
They meet to say farewell: Their wayOf saying this is hard to say--.He holds her hand an Instant, whollyDistressed-- and she unclasps it slowly,He..
© James Whitcomb Riley
The Wife-Blessed
I.In youth he wrought, with eyes ablur,Lorn-faced and long of hair--In youth--in youth he painted herA sister of the air--Could clasp her not, but..
© James Whitcomb Riley
The Way It Wuz
Las' July--an', I persume'Bout as hotAs the ole Gran'-Jury roomWhere they sot!--Fight 'twixt Mike an' Dock McGriff--'Pears to me jes' like as ifI'd a..
© James Whitcomb Riley
To My Good Master
In fancy, always, at thy desk, thrown wide,Thy most betreasured books ranged neighborly--The rarest rhymes of every land and seaAnd curious..
© James Whitcomb Riley
To An Importunate Ghost
Get gone, thou most uncomfortable ghost!Thou really dost annoy me with thy thinImpalpable transparency of grin;And the vague, shadowy shape of thee..
© James Whitcomb Riley
Time Of Clearer Twitterings
I.Time of crisp and tawny leaves,And of tarnished harvest sheaves,And of dusty grasses--weeds--Thistles, with their tufted seedsVoyaging the Autumn..
© James Whitcomb Riley
Time
1The ticking-- ticking-- ticking of the clock--!That vexed me so last night--! 'For though Time keepsSuch drowsy watch,' I moaned, 'he never..
© James Whitcomb Riley
Through Sleepy-Land
Where do you go when you go to sleep,Little Boy! Little Boy! where?'Way--'way in where's Little Bo-Peep,And Little Boy Blue, and the Cows and..
© James Whitcomb Riley
Three Dead Friends
Always suddenly they are gone--The friends we trusted and held secure--Suddenly we are gazing on,Not a _smiling_ face, but the marble-pureDead mask..
© James Whitcomb Riley
Thoughts Fer The Discuraged Farmer
The summer winds is sniffin' round the bloomin'locus' trees;And the clover in the pastur is a big day fer the bees,And they been a-swiggin' honey..
© James Whitcomb Riley
Thomas The Pretender
Tommy's alluz playin' jokes,An' actin' up, an' foolin' folks;An' wunst one time he creepIn Pa's big chair, he did, one night,An' squint an' shut his..
© James Whitcomb Riley
Thinkin' Back
I've ben thinkin' back, of late,S'prisin'!--And I'm here to stateI'm suspicious it's a signOf _age_, maybe, or declineOf my faculties,--and yitI'm..
© James Whitcomb Riley
Them Flowers
Take a feller 'at's sick and laid up on the shelf,All shaky, and ga'nted, and pore--Jes all so knocked out he can't handle hisselfWith a stiff..
© James Whitcomb Riley
The Train Misser
At Union Station'Ll where in the world my eyes has bin--Ef I hain't missed that train ag'in!Chuff! And whistle! And toot! And ring!But blast and..
© James Whitcomb Riley
The Rose
It tossed its head at the wooing breeze;And the sun, like a bashful swain,Beamed on it through the waving treesWith a passion all in vain,--For my..
© James Whitcomb Riley
To Hear Her Sing
To hear her sing--to hear her sing--It is to hear the birds of SpringIn dewy groves on blooming spraysPour out their blithest roundelays.It is to..
© James Whitcomb Riley
Wait For The Morning
Wait for the morning:--It will come, indeed,As surely as the night hath given need.The yearning eyes, at last, will strain their sightNo more..
© James Whitcomb Riley
What The Wind Said
'I muse to-day, in a listless way,In the gleam of a summer land;I close my eyes as a lover mayAt the touch of his sweetheart's hand,And I hear these..
© James Whitcomb Riley
What Smith Knew About Farming
There wasn't two purtier farms in the stateThan the couple of which I'm about to relate;--Jinin' each other--belongin' to Brown,And jest at the edge..
© James Whitcomb Riley
To My Old Friend, William Leachman
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..
© James Whitcomb Riley
Pipes O' Pan At Zekesbury
The pipes of Pan! Not idler now are theyThan when their cunning fashioner first blewThe pith of music from them: Yet for youAnd me their notes are..
© James Whitcomb Riley
Philiper Flash
Young Philiper Flash was a promising lad,His intentions were good--but oh, how sadFor a person to thinkHow the veriest pinkAnd bloom of perfection..
© James Whitcomb Riley
The Bat
I.Thou dread, uncanny thing,With fuzzy breast and leathern wing,In mad, zigzagging flight,Notching the dusk, and buffetingThe black cheeks of the..
© James Whitcomb Riley
The Boy Patriot
I want to be a Soldier!--A Soldier!--A Soldier!--I want to be a Soldier, with a sabre in my handOr a little carbine rifle, or a musket on my..
© James Whitcomb Riley