Old Winters On The Farm

    I have jest about decided
        It 'ud keep a town-boy hoppin'
        Fer to work all winter, choppin'
    Fer a' old fire-place, like I did!
    Lawz! them old times wuz contrairy! -
        Blame backbone o' winter, 'peared-like,
        Wouldn't break! - and I wuz skeerd-like
    Clean on into Febuary!
        Nothin' ever made we madder
    Than fer Pap to stomp in, layin'
    On a' extra fore-stick, sayin'
        "Groun'hog's out and seed his shadder!"

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

Last Night - And This

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A Full Harvest.

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

A Song Of Singing

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

The Old Man

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.

Old Man's Nursery Rhyme

I


In the jolly winters
Of the long-ago,
It was not so cold as now -
O! No! No!
Then, as I remember,
Snowballs to eat
Were as good as apples now.
And every bit as sweet!


II


In the jolly winters
Of the dead-and-gone,
Bub was warm as summer,
With his red mitts on, -
Just in his little waist-
And-pants all together,
Who ever hear him growl
About cold weather?


III


In the jolly winters
Of the long-ago -
Was it HALF so cold as now?
O! No! No!
Who caught his death o' cold,
Making prints of men
Flat-backed in snow that now's
Twice as cold again?


IV


In the jolly winters
Of the dead-and-gone,
Startin' out rabbit-huntin'...

James Whitcomb Riley

Winter Fancies

I

Winter without
    And warmth within;
The winds may shout
    And the storm begin;
The snows may pack
    At the window pane,
And the skies grow black,
    And the sun remain
Hidden away
    The livelong day -
But here - in here is the warmth of May!

II

Swoop your spitefullest
    Up the flue,
    Wild Winds - do!
What in the world do I care for you?
O delightfullest
    Weather of all,
    Howl and squall,
And shake the trees till the last leaves fall!

III

The joy one feels,
    In an easy chair,
Cocking his heels
    In the dancing air
That wreathes the rim of a roaring stove
Whose heat loves better than hearts can love,
Will not permit
    The coldest day
 ...

James Whitcomb Riley

How John Quit The Farm.

    Nobody on the old farm here but Mother, me and John,
    Except, of course, the extry he'p when harvest-time come on -
    And then, I want to say to you, we needed he'p about,
    As you'd admit, ef you'd a-seen the way the crops turned out!

    A better quarter-section, ner a richer soil warn't found
    Than this-here old-home place o' ourn fer fifty miles around! -
    The house was small - but plenty-big we found it from the day
    That John - our only livin' son - packed up and went way.

    You see, we tuck sich pride in John - his mother more 'n me -
    That's natchurul; but both of us was proud as proud could be;
    Fer the boy, from a little chap, was most oncommon bright,
    And seemed in work as well as play to take the same delight.
...

James Whitcomb Riley

When The Frost Is On The Punkin

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock,
And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey-cock,
And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hens,
And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence;
O, it's then's the times a feller is a-feelin' at his best,
With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest,
As he leaves the house, bare-headed, and goes out to feed the stock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

They's something kindo' harty-like about the atmusfere
When the heat of summer's over and the coolin' fall is here -
Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossums on the trees,
And the mumble of the hummin'-birds and buzzin' of the bees;
But the air's so appetizin'; and the la...

James Whitcomb Riley

The Old Hay-Mow

The Old Hay-mow's the place to play
Fer boys, when it's a rainy day!
I good-'eal ruther be up there
Than down in town, er anywhere!

When I play in our stable-loft,
The good old hay's so dry an' soft,
An' feels so fine, an' smells so sweet,
I 'most ferget to go an' eat.

An' one time wunst I did ferget
To go 'tel dinner was all et, -
An' they had short-cake - an' - Bud he
Hogged up the piece Ma saved fer me!

Nen I won't let him play no more
In our hay-mow where I keep store
An' got hen-eggs to sell, - an' shoo
The cackle-un old hen out, too!

An' nen, when Aunty she was here
A-visitun from Rensselaer,
An' bringed my little cousin, - he
Can come up there an' play with me.

But, after while - when Bud h...

James Whitcomb Riley

The Hoodoo.

    Owned a pair o' skates onc't. - Traded
        Fer 'em, - stropped 'em on and waded
    Up and down the crick, a-waitin'
    Tel she'd freeze up fit fer skatin'.
    Mildest winter I remember -
        More like Spring- than Winter-weather! -
    Did n't frost tel bout December-
        Git up airly ketch a' feather
    Of it, mayby, 'crost the winder -
    Sunshine swinge it like a cinder!

    Well - I waited - and kep' waitin'!
        Couldn't see my money's w'oth in
    Them-air skates and was no skatin',
        Ner no hint o' ice ner nothin'!
    So, one day - along in airly
    Spring - I swopped 'em off - and barely
    Closed the dicker, 'fore the weather
        Natchurly jes slipped the ratchet,
    And crick...

James Whitcomb Riley