James Whitcomb Riley

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

James Whitcomb Riley Poems

1. Over The Eyes Of Gladness 4/9/2010
2. Pan 4/9/2010
3. Plain Sermons 4/9/2010
4. Prior To Miss Belle's Appearance 4/9/2010
5. Private Theatricals 4/9/2010
6. Proem 4/9/2010
7. Reach Your Hand To Me 4/9/2010
8. Regardin' Terry Hut 4/9/2010
9. Scraps 4/9/2010
10. September Dark 4/9/2010
11. Silence 4/9/2010
12. Sister Jones's Confession 4/9/2010
13. Sleep 4/9/2010
14. Some Scattering Remarks Of Bub's 4/9/2010
15. Some Songs After Master Singers 4/9/2010
16. Song 4/9/2010
17. Romancin' 4/9/2010
18. That Other Maud Muller 4/9/2010
19. The Ancient Printman 4/9/2010
20. The Artemus Of Michigan 4/9/2010
21. The Beautiful City 4/9/2010
22. The Best Is Good Enough 4/9/2010
23. The Best Times 4/9/2010
24. The Book Of Joyous Children 4/9/2010
25. The Boy Lives On Our Farm 4/9/2010
26. The Boys 4/9/2010
27. The Boy's Candidate 4/9/2010
28. The Clover 4/9/2010
29. The Curse Of The Wandering Foot 4/9/2010
30. The Cyclone 4/9/2010
31. The Child-World 4/9/2010
32. The Dead Lover 4/9/2010
33. The Drum 4/9/2010
34. The Frog 4/9/2010
35. The Harp Of The Minstrel 4/9/2010
36. The Hereafter 4/9/2010
37. The Hired Man And Floretty 4/9/2010
38. The Jaybird 4/9/2010
39. The Jolly Miller 4/9/2010
40. The Katydids 4/9/2010
Best Poem of James Whitcomb Riley

A Life-Lesson

There! little girl; don't cry!
They have broken your doll, I know;
And your tea-set blue,
And your play-house, too,
Are things of the long ago;
But childish troubles will soon pass by. --
There! little girl; don't cry!

There! little girl; don't cry!
They have broken your slate, I know;
And the glad, wild ways
Of your schoolgirl days
Are things of the long ago;
But life and love will soon come by. --
There! little girl; don't cry!

There! little girl; don't cry!
They have broken your heart I know;
And the rainbow gleams ...

Read the full of A Life-Lesson

Our Hired Girl

1 Our hired girl, she's 'Lizabuth Ann;
2 An' she can cook best things to eat!
3 She ist puts dough in our pie-pan,
4 An' pours in somepin' 'at's good an' sweet;
5 An' nen she salts it all on top
6 With cinnamon; an' nen she'll stop
7 An' stoop an' slide it, ist as slow,
8 In th' old cook-stove, so's 'twon't slop
9 An' git all spilled; nen bakes it, so

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