A Song By Uncle Sidney

O were I not a clod, intent
    On being just an earthly thing,
I'd be that rare embodiment
    Of Heart and Spirit, Voice and Wing,
With pure, ecstatic, rapture-sent,
    Divinely-tender twittering
That Echo swoons to re-present, -
    A bluebird in the Spring.

James Whitcomb Riley

James Whitcomb Riley was an American writer, poet, and best-selling author. He was known as the "Hoosier Poet" and the "Children's Poet" for his dialect works and children's poetry respectively. Over his career, Riley authored approximately 1,000 poems, including "Little Orphant Annie" and "The Raggedy Man". His influence extended into the 20th century, and his works continued to be celebrated for their nostalgic and rural themes.

James Whitcomb Riley

Dream

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

A Test Of Love

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

In The Evening

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

The Child-World

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

A Song Of Singing

Sing! gangling lad, along the brink
    Of wild brook-ways of shoal and deep,
Where killdees dip, and cattle drink,
    And glinting little minnows leap!
Sing! slimpsy lass who trips above
    And sets the foot-log quivering!
Sing! bittern, bumble-bee, and dove -
    Sing! Sing! Sing!

Sing as you will, O singers all
    Who sing because you want to sing!
Sing! peacock on the orchard wall,
    Or tree-toad by the trickling spring!
Sing! every bird on every bough -
    Sing! every living, loving thing -
Sing any song, and anyhow,
    But Sing! Sing! Sing!

James Whitcomb Riley

A Session With Uncle Sidney - IV - And Makes Nursery Rhymes - 4 "It"

A wee little worm in a hickory-nut
    Sang, happy as he could be, -



"O I live in the heart of the whole round world,
    And it all belongs to me!"

James Whitcomb Riley

Bluebird's Greeting

Over the mossy walls,
Above the slumbering fields
Where yet the ground no fruitage yields,
Save as the sunlight falls
In dreams of harvest-yellow,
What voice remembered calls, -
So bubbling fresh, so soft and mellow?

A darting, azure-feathered arrow
From some lithe sapling's bow-curve, fleet
The bluebird, springing light and narrow,
Sings in flight, with gurglings sweet:

"Out of the South I wing,
Blown on the breath of Spring:
The little faltering song
That in my beak I bring
Some maiden shall catch and sing,
Filling it with the longing
And the blithe, unfettered thronging
Of her spirit's blossoming.

"Warbling along
In the sunny weather,
Float, my notes,
Through the sunny motes,
Falling light as a feather!

George Parsons Lathrop

A Session With Uncle Sidney - II - Uncle Brightens Up

Uncle he says 'at 'way down in the sea
Ever'thing's ist like it used to be: -
He says they's mermaids, an' mermens, too,
An' little merchildern, like me an' you -
Little merboys, with tops an' balls,
An' little mergirls, with little merdolls.

Uncle Sidney's vurry proud
    Of little Leslie-Janey,
'Cause she's so smart, an' goes to school
    Clean 'way in Pennsylvany!


She print' an' sent a postul-card
    To Uncle Sidney, telling
How glad he'll be to hear that she
    "Toock the onners in Speling."

Uncle he learns us to rhyme an' write
An' all be poets an' all recite:
His little-est poet's his little-est niece,
An' this is her little-est poetry-piece.

James Whitcomb Riley

A Session With Uncle Sidney - III - Sings A "Winky-Tooden" Song

O here's a little rhyme for the Spring- or Summer-time -
    An a-ho-winky-tooden-an-a-ho! -
Just a little bit o' tune you can twitter, May or June,
    An a-ho-winky-tooden-an-a-ho!
It's a song that soars and sings,
As the birds that twang their wings
Or the katydids and things
    Thus and so, don't you know,
    An a-ho-winky-tooden-an-a-ho!

It's a song just broken loose, with no reason or excuse -
    An a-ho-winky-tooden-an-a-ho!
You can sing along with it - or it matters not a bit -
    An a-ho-winky-tooden-an-a-ho!
It's a lovely little thing
That 'most any one could sing
With a ringle-dingle-ding,
    Soft and low, don't you know,
    An a-ho-winky-tooden-an-a-ho!

James Whitcomb Riley

Were I A Bird

Were I a bird free born to fly
    Aloof on two wee, downy wings,
My canopy would be the sky
    When rosy morn its dawning springs.

Were I a bird I'd sweetly sing
    Earth's vesper song in tree-tops high,
And chant the carol of the Spring
    To every weary passer by.

Were I a bird, the sweetest voice
    That human ear has ever heard, -
The mocking-bird would be my choice,
    For he's the sweetest singing bird!

Were I a bird my life would be
    In keeping with the Will divine -
I'd sing His carols full and free
    In spreading oak and cony pine!

Were I a bird through air I'd roam,
    Just flitting on the morning breeze,
In search of summer's sunny dome,
    To live contentedly at ease.

Were I a bird I'd ...

Edward Smyth Jones