Indiana

Our Land - our Home - the common home indeed
Of soil-born children and adopted ones -
The stately daughters and the stalwart sons
Of Industry: All greeting and godspeed!
O home to proudly live for, and if need
Be proudly die for, with the roar of guns
Blent with our latest prayer. So died men once...
Lo Peace...! As we look on the land They freed -
Its harvests all in ocean-over flow
Poured round autumnal coasts in billowy gold -
Its corn and wine and balmed fruits and flow'rs,
We know the exaltation that they know
Who now, steadfast inheritors, behold
The Land Elysian, marvelling "This is ours?"

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

Good-By Er Howdy-Do

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

The Watches Of The Night.

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

The Raggedy Man

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

What "Old Santa" Overheard

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.

Right Here At Home.

    Right here at home, boys, in old Hoosierdom,
    Where strangers allus joke us when they come,
    And brag o' their old States and interprize -
    Yit settle here; and 'fore they realize,
    They're "hoosier" as the rest of us, and live
    Right here at home, boys, with their past fergive!

    Right here at home, boys, is the place, I guess,
    Fer me and you and plain old happiness:
    We hear the World's lots grander - likely so, -
    We'll take the World's word fer it and not go. -
    We know its ways aint our ways - so we'll stay
    Right here at home, boys, where we know the way.

    Right here at home, boys, where a well-to-do
    Man's plenty rich enough - and knows it, too,
    And's got a' extry dollar, any t...

James Whitcomb Riley

Old Indiany. Intended For A Dinner Of The Indiana Society Of Chicago

Old Indiany, 'course we know
Is first, and best, and most, also,
Of all the States' whole forty-four: -
She's first in ever'thing, that's shore! -
And best in ever'way as yet
Made known to man; and you kin bet
She's most, because she won't confess
She ever was, or will be, less!
And yet, fer all her proud array
Of sons, how many gits away! -

No doubt about her bein' great,
But, fellers, she's a leaky State!
And them that boasts the most about
Her, them's the ones that's dribbled out.
Law! jes' to think of all you boys
'Way over here in Illinoise
A-celebratin', like ye air,
Old Indiany, 'way back there
In the dark ages, so to speak,
A-prayin' for ye once a week
And wonderin' what's a-keepin' yo...

James Whitcomb Riley

Home, Sweet Home.

"It shall be a royal mansion,
    A fair and beautiful thing,
It will be the presence-chamber
    Of thy Saviour, Lord and King.

"Thy house shall be bound with pinions
    To mansions of rest above,
But grace shall forge all the fetters
    With the links and cords of love.

"Thou shalt be free in this mansion
    From sorrow and pain of heart,
For the peace of God shall enter,
    And never again depart."


Sharers of a common country,
    They had met in deadly strife;
Men who should have been as brothers
    Madly sought each other's life.

In the silence of the even,
    When the cannon's lips were dumb,
Thoughts of home and all its loved ones
    To the soldier's heart would come.

On the margin of a rive...

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

Hamatreya

Bulkeley, Hunt, Willard, Hosmer, Meriam, Flint,
Possessed the land which rendered to their toil
Hay, corn, roots, hemp, flax, apples, wool and wood.
Each of these landlords walked amidst his farm,
Saying, ''Tis mine, my children's and my name's.
How sweet the west wind sounds in my own trees!
How graceful climb those shadows on my hill!
I fancy these pure waters and the flags
Know me, as does my dog: we sympathize;
And, I affirm, my actions smack of the soil.'

Where are these men? Asleep beneath their grounds:
And strangers, fond as they, their furrows plough.
Earth laughs in flowers, to see her boastful boys
Earth-proud, proud of the earth which is not theirs;
Who steer the plough, but cannot steer their feet
Clear of the grave.
They added ridge to vall...

Ralph Waldo Emerson

God Bless Our Native Land.

God bless our native land,
    Land of the newly free,
Oh may she ever stand
    For truth and liberty.

God bless our native land,
    Where sleep our kindred dead,
Let peace at thy command
    Above their graves be shed.

God help our native land,
    Bring surcease to her strife,
And shower from thy hand
    A more abundant life.

God bless our native land,
    Her homes and children bless,
Oh may she ever stand
    For truth and righteousness.

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

The Emigrant's Address To America.

All hail to thee, noble and generous Land!
    With thy prairies boundless and wide,
Thy mountains that tower like sentinels grand,
    Thy lakes and thy rivers of pride!

Thy forests that hide in their dim haunted shades
    New flowers of loveliness rare -
Thy fairy like dells and thy bright golden glades,
    Thy warm skies as Italy's fair.

Here Plenty has lovingly smiled on the soil,
    And 'neath her sweet, merciful reign
The brave and long suff'ring children of toil
    Need labor no longer in vain.

I ask of thee shelter from lawless harm,
    Food - raiment - and promise thee now,
In return, the toil of a stalwart arm,
    And the sweat of an honest brow.

But think not, I pray, that this heart is bereft
    Of fond recollect...

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon