James Whitcomb Riley
With A Serious Conclusion
Crowd about me, little children--
Come and cluster 'round my knee
While I tell a little story
That happened once with me.
My father he had gone away
A-sailing on the foam,
Leaving me--the merest infant--
And my mother dear at home;
For my father was a sailor,
And he sailed the ocean o'er
For full five years ere yet again
He reached his native shore.
And I had grown up rugged
And healthy day by day,
Though I was but a puny babe
When father went away.
Poor mother she would kiss me
And look at me and sigh
So strangely, oft I wondered
And would ask the reason why.
And she would answer sadly,
Between her sobs and tears,--
'You look so like your father,
Far away so many years!'
And then she would caress me
And brush my hair away,
And tell me not to question,
But to run about my play.
Thus I went playing thoughtfully--
For that my mother said,--
'YOU LOOK SO LIKE YOUR FATHER!'
Kept ringing in my head.
So, ranging once the golden sands
That looked out on the sea,
I called aloud, 'My father dear,
Come back to ma and me!'
Then I saw a glancing shadow
On the sand, and heard the shriek
Of a sea-gull flying seaward,
And I heard a gruff voice speak:--
'Ay, ay, my little shipmate,
I thought I heard you hail;
Were you trumpeting that sea-gull,
Or do you see a sail?'
And as rough and gruff a sailor
As ever sailed the sea
Was standing near grotesquely
And leering dreadfully.
I replied, though I was frightened,
'It was my father dear
I was calling for across the sea--
I think he didn't hear.'
And then the sailor leered again
In such a frightful way,
And made so many faces
I was little loath to stay:
But he started fiercely toward me--
Then made a sudden halt
And roared, '_I_ think he heard you!'
And turned a somersault.
Then a wild fear overcame me,
And I flew off like the wind,
Shrieking 'MOTHER!'--and the sailor
Just a little way behind!
And then my mother heard me,
And I saw her shade her eyes,
Looking toward me from the doorway,
Transfixed with pale surprise
For a moment--then her features
Glowed with all their wonted charms
As the sailor overtook me,
And I fainted in her arms.
When I awoke to reason
I shuddered with affright
Till I felt my mother's presence
With a thrill of wild delight--
Till, amid a shower of kisses
Falling glad as summer rain,
A muffled thunder rumbled,--
'Is he coming 'round again?'
Then I shrieked and clung unto her,
While her features flushed and burned
As she told me it was father
From a foreign land returned.
. . . . . . .
I said--when I was calm again,
And thoughtfully once more
Had dwelt upon my mother's words
Of just the day before,--
'I DON'T look like my father,
As you told me yesterday--
I know I don't--or father
Would have run the other way.'
James Whitcomb Riley's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (A Ballad by James Whitcomb Riley )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
Harivansh Rai Bachchan
(27 November 1907 – 18 January 2003)
(1644 - 1694)
(August 19, 1902 – May 19, 1971)
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(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
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