Kissing The Rod.

O heart of mine, we shouldn't
        Worry so!
What we've missed of calm we couldn't
        Have, you know!
What we've met of stormy pain,
And of sorrow's driving rain,
We can better meet again,
        If it blow!

We have erred in that dark hour
        We have known,
When our tears fell with the shower,
        All alone! -
Were not shine and shadow blent
As the gracious Master meant? -
Let us temper our content
        With His own.

For, we know, not every morrow
        Can be sad;
So, forgetting all the sorrow
        We have had,
Let us fold away our fears,
And put by our foolish tears,
And through all the coming years
    Just be glad.

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

By Her White Bed.

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

Home At Night.

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

Go, Winter!

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

The Happy Little Cripple

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

English

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Let Us Forget.

    Let us forget.    What matters it that we
        Once reigned o'er happy realms of long-ago,
        And talked of love, and let our voices low,
    And ruled for some brief sessions royally?
    What if we sung, or laughed, or wept maybe?
        It has availed not anything, and so
        Let it go by that we may better know
    How poor a thing is lost to you and me.
        But yesterday I kissed your lips, and yet
    Did thrill you not enough to shake the dew
        From your drenched lids - and missed, with no regret,
    Your kiss shot back, with sharp breaths failing you;
        And so, to-day, while our worn eyes are wet
        With all this waste of tears, let us forget!

James Whitcomb Riley

In The Evening

I

In the evening of our days,
When the first far stars above
Glimmer dimmer, through the haze,
Than the dewy eyes of love,
Shall we mournfully revert
To the vanished morns and Mays
Of our youth, with hearts that hurt, -
In the evening of our days?


II

Shall the hand that holds your own
Till the twain are thrilled as now,
Be withheld, or colder grown?
Shall my kiss upon your brow
Falter from its high estate?
And, in all forgetful ways,
Shall we sit apart and wait -
In the evening of our days?


III

Nay, my wife - my life! - the gloom
Shall enfold us velvetwise,
And my smile shall be the groom
Of the gladness of your eyes:
Gently, gently as the dew
Mingles with the darkening maze,

James Whitcomb Riley

His Room

"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 with you:
    Though brief my stay, nor far away,
    I missed you - missed you night and day -
    As wildly yearned for you as now. -
    Old Room, how are you, anyhow?

"My easy chair, with open arms,
Awaits me just within the door;
The littered carpet's woven charms
Have never seemed so bright before, -
    The old rosettes and mignonettes
    And ivy-leaves and violets,
    Look up as pure and fresh of hue
    As though baptized in morning dew.

"Old Room, to me your homely walls
Fold round me like the arms of love,
And over all my being falls
A blessing pure as from above -
    Even as a nestling ...

James Whitcomb Riley

Over The Eyes Of Gladness

"The voice of One hath spoken,
    And the bended reed is bruised -
The golden bowl is broken,
    And the silver cord is loosed."

Over the eyes of gladness
    The lids of sorrow fall,
And the light of mirth is darkened
    Under the funeral pall.

The hearts that throbbed with rapture
    In dreams of the future years,
Are wakened from their slumbers,
    And their visions drowned in tears.

    .    .    .    .    .    .    .
Two buds on the bough in the morning -
    Twin buds in the smiling sun,
But the frost of death has fallen
    And blighted the bloom of one.

One leaf of life still folded
    Has fallen from the stem,
Leaving the symbol teaching
    There still are two of them, -

For though - throug...

James Whitcomb Riley

The Rainy Morning

The dawn of the day was dreary,
And the lowering clouds o'erhead
Wept in a silent sorrow
Where the sweet sunshine lay dead;
And a wind came out of the eastward
Like an endless sigh of pain,
And the leaves fell down in the pathway
And writhed in the falling rain.

I had tried in a brave endeavor
To chord my harp with the sun,
But the strings would slacken ever,
And the task was a weary one:
And so, like a child impatient
And sick of a discontent,
I bowed in a shower of teardrops
And mourned with the instrument.

And lo! as I bowed, the splendor
Of the sun bent over me,
With a touch as warm and tender
As a father's hand might be:
And even as I felt its presence,
My clouded soul grew bright,
And the tears, like the rain of ...

James Whitcomb Riley

Be Our Fortunes As They May

Be our fortunes as they may,
    Touched with loss or sorrow,
Saddest eyes that weep to-day
    May be glad to-morrow.

Yesterday the rain was here,
    And the winds were blowing -
Sky and earth and atmosphere
    Brimmed and overflowing.

But to-day the sun is out,
    And the drear November
We were then so vexed about
    Now we scarce remember.

Yesterday you lost a friend -
    Bless your heart and love it! -
For you scarce could comprehend
    All the aching of it; -

But I sing to you and say:
    Let the lost friend sorrow -
Here's another come to-day,
    Others may to-morrow.

James Whitcomb Riley