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").

A Test Of Love

'Now who shall say he loves me not.'He wooed her first in an atmosphereOf tender and low-breathed sighs;But the pang of her laugh went cutting..

© James Whitcomb Riley

Old Man Whiskery-Whee-Kum-Wheeze

Old Man Whiskery-Whee-Kum-WheezeLives 'way up in the leaves o' trees.An' wunst I slipped up-stairs to playIn Aunty's room, while she 'uz away;An' I..

© James Whitcomb Riley

Dear Hands

The touches of her hands are like the fallOf velvet snowflakes; like the touch of downThe peach just brushes 'gainst the garden wall;The flossy..

© James Whitcomb Riley

A Song

There is ever a song somewhere, my dear;There is ever a something sings alway:There's the song of the lark when the skies are clear,And the song of..

© James Whitcomb Riley

When Mother Combed My Hair

When Memory, with gentle hand,Has led me to that foreign landOf childhood days, I long to beAgain the boy on bended knee,With head a-bow, and drowsy..

© James Whitcomb Riley

Even Song

Lay away the story,--Though the theme is sweet,There's a lack of something yet,Leaves it incomplete:--There's a nameless yearning--Strangely..

© James Whitcomb Riley

Elizabeth

_May 1, 1891_.I.Elizabeth! Elizabeth!The first May-morning whisperethThy gentle name in every breezeThat lispeth through the young-leaved trees,New..

© James Whitcomb Riley

Our Boyhood Haunts

Ho! I'm going back to whereWe were youngsters.--Meet me there,Dear old barefoot chum, and weWill be as we used to be,--Lawless rangers up and downThe..

© James Whitcomb Riley

Where The Children Used To Play

The old farm-home is Mother's yet and mine,And filled it is with plenty and to spare--,But we are lonely here in life's decline,Though fortune smiles..

© James Whitcomb Riley

Old October

Old October's purt' nigh gone,And the frosts is comin' onLittle heavier every day--Like our hearts is thataway!Leaves is changin' overheadBack from..

© James Whitcomb Riley

Donn Piatt Of Mac-O-Chee

Donn Piatt--of Mac-o-chee,--Not the one of History,Who, with flaming tongue and pen,Scathes the vanities of men;Not the one whose biting witCuts..

© James Whitcomb Riley

Green Fields And Running Brooks

Ho! green fields and running brooks!Knotted strings and fishing-hooksOf the truant, stealing downWeedy backways of the town.Where the sunshine..

© James Whitcomb Riley

Dead Selves

How many of my selves are dead?The ghosts of many haunt me: Lo,The baby in the tiny bedWith rockers on, is blanketedAnd sleeping in the long ago;And..

© James Whitcomb Riley

Her Hair

The beauty of her hair bewilders me-Pouring adown the brow, its cloven tideSwirling about the ears on either sideAnd storming round the neck..

© James Whitcomb Riley

When The Hearse Comes Back

A thing 'at's 'bout as tryin' as a healthy man kin meetIs some poor feller's funeral a-joggin' 'long the street:The slow hearse and the hosses-- slow..

© James Whitcomb Riley

Indiana

Our Land-- our Home-- the common home indeedOf soil-born children and adopted ones--The stately daughters and the stalwart sonsOf Industry--: All..

© James Whitcomb Riley

If I Knew What Poets Know

If I knew what poets know,Would I write a rhymeOf the buds that never blowIn the summer-time?Would I sing of golden seedsSpringing up in..

© James Whitcomb Riley

Her Face And Brow

Ah, help me! but her face and browAre lovelier than lilies areBeneath the light of moon and starThat smile as they are smiling now-White lilies in a..

© James Whitcomb Riley

A Monument For The Soldiers

A monument for the Soldiers!And what will ye build it of?Can ye build it of marble, or brass, or bronze,Outlasting the Soldiers' love?Can ye glorify..

© James Whitcomb Riley

Unless

Who has not wanted, does not guessWhat plenty is.--Who has not gropedIn depths of doubt and hopelessness,Has never truly hoped.--Unless, sometimes, a..

© James Whitcomb Riley

A Feel In The Chris'Mas-Air

They's a kind o' _feel_ in the air, to me.When the Chris'mas-times sets in.That's about as much of a mysteryAs ever I've run ag'in!--Fer instunce..

© James Whitcomb Riley

Old Aunt Mary's

Wasn't it pleasant, O brother mine,In those old days of the lost sunshineOf youth-- when the Saturday's chores were through,And the 'Sunday's wood'..

© James Whitcomb Riley

Griggsby's Station

Pap's got his patent-right, and rich is all creation;But where's the peace and comfort that we all had before?Le's go a-visitin' back to Griggsby's..

© James Whitcomb Riley

A Letter To A Friend

The past is like a storyI have listened to in dreamsThat vanished in the gloryOf the Morning's early gleams;And--at my shadow glancing--I feel a loss..

© James Whitcomb Riley

When My Dreams Come True

I.When my dreams come true--when my dreams come true--Shall I lean from out my casement, in the starlight and the dew,To listen--smile and listen to..

© James Whitcomb Riley