Out Of The Hitherwhere

Out of the hitherwhere into the Yon -
The land that the Lord's love rests upon;
Where one may rely on the friends he meets,
And the smiles that greet him along the streets:
Where the mother that left you years ago
Will lift the hands that were folded so,
And put them about you, with all the love
And tenderness you are dreaming of.

Out of the hitherwhere into the Yon -
Where all of the friends of your youth have gone, -
Where the old schoolmate that laughed with you,
Will laugh again as he used to do,
Running to meet you, with such a face
As lights like a moon the wondrous place
Where God is living, and glad to live,
Since He is the Master and may forgive.

Out of the hitherwhere into the Yon! -
Stay the hopes we are leaning on -
You, Divine, with Your merciful eyes
Looking down from the far-away skies, -
Smile upon us, and reach and take
Our worn souls Home for the old home's sake. -
And so Amen, - for our all seems gone
Out of the hitherwhere into the Yon.

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

Where The Children Used To Play

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

The Penalty Of Genius

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

A Southern Singer.

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

A Delicious Interruption

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.

Where-Away.

    O the Lands of Where-Away!
    Tell us - tell us - where are they?
    Through the darkness and the dawn
    We have journeyed on and on -
    From the cradle to the cross -
    From possession unto loss, -
    Seeking still, from day to day,
    For the lands of Where-Away.

    When our baby-feet were first
    Planted where the daisies burst,
    And the greenest grasses grew
    In the fields we wandered through,
    On, with childish discontent,
    Ever on and on we went,
    Hoping still to pass, some day,
    O'er the verge of Where-Away.

    Roses laid their velvet lips
    On our own, with fragrant sips;
    But their kisses held us not,
    All their sweetness we forgot; -
    Though the brambles in our track
...

James Whitcomb Riley

The Home-Going.

    We must get home - for we have been away
    So long it seems forever and a day!
    And O so very homesick we have grown,
    The laughter of the world is like a moan
    In our tired hearing, and its songs as vain, -
    We must get home - we must get home again!

    We must get home: It hurts so, staying here,
    Where fond hearts must be wept out tear by tear,
    And where to wear wet lashes means, at best,
    When most our lack, the least our hope of rest
    When most our need of joy, the more our pain -
    We must get home - we must get home again!

    We must get home: All is so quiet there:
    The touch of loving hands on brow and hair -
    Dim rooms, wherein the sunshine is made mild - -
    The lost love of the mother and the child<...

James Whitcomb Riley

Proem (AKA "Afterwhiles")

Where are they - the Afterwhiles -
Luring us the lengthening miles
Of our lives? Where is the dawn
With the dew across the lawn
Stroked with eager feet the far
Way the hills and valleys are?
Were the sun that smites the frown
Of the eastward-gazer down?
Where the rifted wreaths of mist
O'er us, tinged with amethyst,
Round the mountain's steep defiles?
Where are the afterwhiles?

Afterwhile - and we will go
Thither, yon, and too and fro -
From the stifling city streets
To the country's cool retreats -
From the riot to the rest
Were hearts beat the placidest:
Afterwhile, and we will fall
Under breezy trees, and loll
In the shade, with thirsty sight
Drinking deep the blue delight
Of the skies that will beguile
Us as childre...

James Whitcomb Riley

Away

I cannot say, and I will not say
That he is dead. He is just away!

With a cheery smile, and a wave of the hand
He has wandered into an unknown land,

And left us dreaming how very fair
It needs must be, since he lingers there.

And you - O you, who the wildest yearn
For the old-time step and the glad return,

Think of him faring on, as dear
In the love of There as the love of Here;

And loyal still, as he gave the blows
Of his warrior-strength to his country's foes.

Mild and gentle, as he was brave,
When the sweetest love of his life he gave

To simple things: Where the violets grew
Blue as the eyes they were likened to,

The touches of his hands have strayed
As reverently as his lips have prayed:

When ...

James Whitcomb Riley

Envoy.

Just as of old!    The world rolls on and on;
The day dies into night - night into dawn -
Dawn into dusk - through centuries untold. -
    Just as of old.

Time loiters not.    The river ever flows,
Its brink or white with blossoms or with snows;
Its tide or warm with Spring or Winter cold:
    Just as of old.

Lo! where is the beginning, where the end
Of living, loving, longing?    Listen, friend! -
God answers with a silence of pure gold -
    Just as of old.

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