An Out-Worn Sappho (James Whitcomb Riley Poems)
How tired I am! I sink down all alone Here by the wayside of the Present. Lo,Even as a child I ...
How tired I am! I sink down all alone Here by the wayside of the Present. Lo,Even as a child I ...
At Noey's house--when they arrived with him--How snug seemed everything, and neat and trim:The little picket-fence, and little gate--It's little ...
IHe was a Dreamer of the Days: Indolent as a lazy breezeOf midsummer, in idlest ways Lolling about in the shade of ...
Oh! the old swimmin'-hole! whare the crick so still and deep Looked like a baby-river that was laying half asleep, And the ...
Lying listless in the mossesUnderneath a tree that tossesFlakes of sunshine, and embosses Its green shadow with the snow--Drowsy-eyed, I sink ...
It tossed its head at the wooing breeze; And the sun, like a bashful swain,Beamed on it through the waving trees With ...
It was just a very Merry fairy dream!--All the woods were airy With the gloom and gleam;Crickets in the clover Clattered clear and ...
O it was but a dream I had While the musician played!-- And here the sky, and here the glad Old ocean kissed ...
In spring, when the green gits back in the trees, And the sun comes out and stays, And yer boots pulls on ...
Heigh-ho! Babyhood! Tell me where you linger: Let's toddle home again, for we have gone astray; Take this eager hand of mine ...
_(Grandfather, musing.)_In childish days! O memory, You bring such curious things to me!--Laughs to the lip--tears to the eye,In looking on ...
The orchard lands of Long Ago!O drowsy winds, awake, and blowThe snowy blossoms back to me,And all the buds that ...
Queenly month of indolent repose! I drink thy breath in sips of rare perfume, As in thy downy lap of clover-bloomI nestle ...
He leant against a lamp-post, lost In some mysterious reverie: His head was bowed; his arms were crossed; He yawned, and glanced evasively: Uncrossed ...
This Pan is but an idle god, I guess,Since all the fair midsummer of my dreamsHe loiters listlessly by woody ...
OH! the old swimmin'-hole! whare the crick so still and deep Looked like a baby-river that was laying half asleep, ...
A languid atmosphere, a lazy breeze, With labored respiration, moves the wheat From distant reaches, till the golden seas Break ...
Tell you what I like the best -- 'Long about knee-deep in June, 'Bout the time strawberries melts On the ...
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