Posts filed under ‘James Whitcomb Riley’


by James Whitcomb Riley

A little boy once played so loud
That the Thunder, up in a thunder-cloud,
Said, “Since I can’t be heard, why, then
I’ll never, never thunder again!”

And a little girl once kept so still
That she heard a fly on the window-sill
Whisper and say to a lady-bird,—
“She’s the stilliest child I ever heard!”

June 1, 2014 at 8:25 pm Leave a comment

The Diners in the Kitchen

The Book of Joyous Childrenby James Whitcomb Riley

Our dog Fred
Ate the bread.

Our dog Dash
Ate the hash.

Our dog Pete
Ate the meat.

Our dog Davy
Ate the gravy.

Our dog Toffy
Ate the coffee.

Our dog Jake
Ate the cake.

Our dog Trip
Ate the dip.

And – the worst,
From the first, –

Our dog Fido
Ate the pie-dough.

May 17, 2014 at 8:25 pm Leave a comment

My Friend

by James Whitcomb Riley

“He is my friend,” I said,—
“Be patient!” Overhead
The skies were drear and dim;
And lo! the thought of him
Smiled on my heart—and then
The sun shone out again!

“He is my friend!” The words
Brought summer and the birds;
And all my winter-time
Thawed into running rhyme
And rippled into song,
Warm, tender, brave, and strong.

And so it sings to-day.—
So may it sing alway!
Though waving grasses grow
Between, and lilies blow
Their trills of perfume clear
As laughter to the ear,
Let each mute measure end
With “Still he is thy friend.”

February 6, 2014 at 8:25 pm Leave a comment

Find the Favorite

by James Whitcomb Riley
favorite cat

Our three cats is Maltese cats,
An’ they’s two that’s white,—
An’ bofe of ’em’s deef—an’ that’s
‘Cause their eyes ain’t right.—

Uncle say that Huxley say
Eyes of white Maltese—
When they don’t match thataway—
They’re deef as you please!

Girls, they like our white cats best,
‘Cause they’re white as snow,
Yes, an’ look the stylishest—
But they’re deef, you know!

They don’t know their names, an’ don’t
Hear us when we call
“Come in, Nick an’ Finn!”—they won’t
Come fer us at all!

But our other cat, he knows
Mister Nick an’ Finn,—
Mowg’s his name,—an’ when he goes
Fer ’em, they come in!

Mowgli’s all his name—the same
Me an’ Muvver took
Like the Wolf-Child’s other name,
In “The Jungul Book.”

I bet Mowg’s the smartest cat
In the world!—He’s not
White, but mousy-plush, with that
Smoky gloss he’s got!

All’s got little bells to ring,
Round their neck; but none
Only Mowg knows anything—
He’s the only one!

I ist ‘spect sometimes he hate
White cats’ stupid ways:—
He won’t hardly ‘sociate
With ’em, lots o’ days!

Mowg wants in where we air,—well,
He’ll ist take his paw
An’ ist ring an’ ring his bell
There till me er Ma

Er somebody lets him in
Nen an’ shuts the door.—
An’, when he wants out ag’in,
Nen he’ll ring some more.

Ort to hear our Katy tell!
She sleeps ‘way up-stairs;
An’ last night she hear Mowg’s bell
Ringin’ round somewheres…

Trees grows by her winder.—So,
She lean out an’ see
Mowg up there, ‘way out, you know,
In the clingstone-tree;—

An’-sir! he ist hint an’ ring,—
Till she ketch an’ plat
Them limbs;—nen he crawl an’ spring
In where Katy’s at!

February 5, 2014 at 8:25 pm Leave a comment