The Old-Home Folks (James Whitcomb Riley Poems)
Such was the Child-World of the long-ago--The little world these children used to know:--Johnty, the oldest, and the best, perhaps,Of ...
Such was the Child-World of the long-ago--The little world these children used to know:--Johnty, the oldest, and the best, perhaps,Of ...
Resolved my gratitude to show,Thrice reverend Dean, for all I owe,Too long I have my thanks delay'd;Your favours left too ...
Still o'er my mind wild Fancy holds her sway,Still on strange visionary land I stray.Now scenes crowd thick! now indistinct ...
A POETICAL EPISTLE TO LORD CLARETHANKS, my Lord, for your venison, for finer or fatterNever rang'd in a forest, or ...
To praise thy Author, Soul, do not forget;Canst thou, in gratitude, deny the debt?Lord, thou art great, how great we ...
A pleasant shady place it is, a pleasant place and cool —The township folk go up and down, the children ...
Why go to Saint-Juliot? What's Juliot to me?I've been but made fancyBy some necromancyThat much of my life claims the ...
A city clerk, but gently born and bred;His wife, an unknown artist's orphan child—One babe was theirs, a Margaret, three ...
Why stay we at home, now the season is come!Jolly lads let us liquor our throats;Our interest we wrong, if ...
Not less light shall the gold and the green lieOn the cyclonic curl and diamonded eye, thanLove lay yesterday on ...
Half a dozen childrenAt our house!Half a dozen childrenQuiet as a mouse,Quiet as a moonbeam,You could hear a pin—Waiting for ...
A frost came in the night and stole my worldAnd left this changeling for it - a precociousImage of spring, ...
A city clerk, but gently born and bred; His wife, an unknown artist's orphan child-- One babe was theirs, a ...
Only a Leather Medal, hanging there on the wall, Dingy and frayed and faded, dusty and worn and old; Yet ...
I saw a Priest in beetle black Come to our golden beach, And I was taken sore aback Lest he ...
Part 1 WHAT dire Offence from am'rous Causes springs, What mighty Contests rise from trivial Things, I sing -- This ...
Not with more glories, in th' etherial plain, The sun first rises o'er the purpled main, Than, issuing forth, the ...
"Perhaps you'll tire of me," muses my love, although she's like a great city to me, or a park that ...
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