Blind (James Whitcomb Riley Poems)
You think it is a sorry thing That I am blind. Your pitying Is welcome to me; yet indeed, I think I have but ...
You think it is a sorry thing That I am blind. Your pitying Is welcome to me; yet indeed, I think I have but ...
The Hired Man's supper, which he sat before,In near reach of the wood-box, the stove-doorAnd one leaf of the kitchen-table, ...
Another hero of those youthful yearsReturns, as Noey Bixler's name appears.And Noey--if in any special way--Was notably good-natured.--Work or playHe ...
A king--estranged from his loving Queen By a foolish royal whim--Tired and sick of the dull routine Of matters surrounding him--Issued a ...
All seemed delighted, though the elders more,Of course, than were the children.--Thus, beforeMuch interchange of mirthful compliment,The story-teller said _his_ ...
Ah, Almon Keefer! what a boy you were,With your back-tilted hat and careless hair,And open, honest, fresh, fair face and ...
Within the sitting-room, the companyHad been increased in number. Two or threeYoung couples had been added: Emma King,Ella and Mary ...
"I'm home again, my dear old Room, I'm home again, and happy, too,As, peering through the brightening gloom, I find myself alone ...
O the drum! There is some Intonation in thy grum Monotony of utterance that strikes the spirit dumb, As we hear Through the clear And unclouded ...
Thou Poet, who, like any lark, Dost whet thy beak and trill From misty morn till murky dark, Nor ever pipe thy fill: Hast ...
There is a princess in the South About whose beauty rumors hum Like honey-bees about the mouth Of roses dewdrops falter from; And O ...
A quite convincing axiom Is, "Life is like a play";For, turning back its pages some Few dog-eared years away, I find where I Committed ...
Only a dream! Her head is bentOver the keys of the instrument,While her trembling fingers go astrayIn the foolish tune she ...
The audience entire seemed pleased--indeed_Extremely_ pleased. And little Maymie, freedFrom her task of instructing, ran to showHer wondrous colored picture ...
Such a dear little street it is, nestled awayFrom the noise of the city and heat of the day,In cool ...
It was a man of many parts, Who in his coffer mindHad stored the Classics and the Arts And Sciences combined;The purest ...
Just the airiest, fairiest slip of a thing,With a Gainsborough hat, like a butterfly's wing,Tilted up at one side with ...
To the Elect of Love,--or side-by-sideIn raptest ecstasy, or sundered wideBy seas that bear no message to or froBetween the ...
Sweet little myth of the nursery story-- Earliest love of mine infantile breast,Be something tangible, bloom in thy glory Into existence, as ...
The landscape, like the awed face of a child,Grew curiously blurred; a hush of deathFell on the fields, and in ...
Go, Winter! Go thy ways! We want again The twitter of the bluebird and the wren; Leaves ever greener growing, and the shine Of Summer's ...
I hail thee, Nessmuk, for the lofty tone Yet simple grace that marks thy poetry! True forester thou art, and still to ...
Low hidden in among the forest trees An artist's tilted easel, ankle-deep In tousled ferns and mosses, and in these A fluffy water-spaniel, ...
A goddess, with a siren's grace,-- A sun-haired girl on a craggy place Above a bay where fish-boats lay Drifting ...
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