Red Riding-Hood

Sweet little myth of the nursery story -
    Earliest love of mine infantile breast,
Be something tangible, bloom in thy glory
    Into existence, as thou art addressed!
Hasten! appear to me, guileless and good -
    Thou are so dear to me, Red Riding-Hood!

Azure-blue eyes, in a marvel of wonder,
    Over the dawn of a blush breaking out;
Sensitive nose, with a little smile under
    Trying to hide in a blossoming pout -
Couldn't be serious, try as you would,
    Little mysterious Red Riding-Hood!

Hah! little girl, it is desolate, lonely,
    Out in this gloomy old forest of Life! -
Here are not pansies and buttercups only -
    Brambles and briers as keen as a knife;
And a Heart, ravenous, trails in the wood
For the meal have he must, - Red Riding-Hood!

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

Leonainie

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

The Runaway Boy

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

At Noey's House

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

The Book Of Joyous Children

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

English

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Red Riding-Hood

On the wide lawn the snow lay deep,
Ridged oer with many a drifted heap;
The wind that through the pine-trees sung
The naked elm-boughs tossed and swung;
While, through the window, frosty-starred,
Against the sunset purple barred,
We saw the sombre crow flap by,
The hawks gray fleck along the sky,
The crested blue-jay flitting swift,
The squirrel poising on the drift,
Erect, alert, his broad gray tail
Set to the north wind like a sail.

It came to pass, our little lass,
With flattened face against the glass,
And eyes in which the tender dew
Of pity shone, stood gazing through
The narrow space her rosy lips
Had melted from the frosts eclipse
Oh, see, she cried, the poor blue-jays!
What is it that the black crow says?
The squirrel ...

John Greenleaf Whittier

Little Red Riding-Hood.

Versified by Mrs. Clara Doty Bates.


If you listen, children, I will tell
The story of little Red Riding-hood:
Such wonderful, wonderful things befell
Her and her grandmother, old and good
(So old she was never very well),
Who lived in a cottage in a wood.

Little Red Riding-hood, every day,
Whatever the weather, shine or storm,
To see her grandmother tripped away,
With a scarlet hood to keep her warm,
And a little mantle, soft and gay,
And a basket of goodies on her arm.

A pat of butter, and cakes of cheese,
Were stored in the napkin, nice and neat;
As she danced along beneath the trees,
As light as a shadow were her feet;
And she hummed such tunes as the bumble-bees
Hum when the clover-tops are sweet.

But an ugly wo...

Clara Doty Bates

The Rose.

    It tossed its head at the wooing breeze;
        And the sun, like a bashful swain,
    Beamed on it through the waving frees
        With a passion all in vain, -
    For my rose laughed in a crimson glee,
    And hid in the leaves in wait for me.

    The honey-bee came there to sing
        His love through the languid hours,
    And vaunt of his hives, as a proud old king
        Might boast of his palace-towers:
    But my rose bowed in a mockery,
    And hid in the leaves in wait for me.

    The humming-bird, like a courtier gay,
        Dipped down with a dalliant song,
    And twanged his wings through the roundelay
        Of love the whole day long:
    Yet my rose turned from his minstrelsy
    And hid in the leaves in wait for m...

James Whitcomb Riley

The Evening Company

Within the sitting-room, the company
Had been increased in number. Two or three
Young couples had been added: Emma King,
Ella and Mary Mathers - all could sing
Like veritable angels - Lydia Martin, too,
And Nelly Millikan. - What songs they knew! -

        "'Ever of Thee - wherever I may be,
        Fondly I'm drea-m-ing ever of thee!'"

And with their gracious voices blend the grace
Of Warsaw Barnett's tenor; and the bass
Unfathomed of Wick Chapman - Fancy still
Can feel, as well as hear it, thrill on thrill,
Vibrating plainly down the backs of chairs
And through the wall and up the old hall-stairs. -
Indeed young Chapman's voice especially
Attracted Mr. Hammond - For, said he,
Waiving the most Elysian sweetness of
...

James Whitcomb Riley

What the Wolf Really Said to Little Red Riding-Hood

Wondering maiden, so puzzled and fair,
Why dost thou murmur and ponder and stare?
Why are my eyelids so open and wild?
Only the better to see with, my child!
Only the better and clearer to view
Cheeks that are rosy and eyes that are blue.

Dost thou still wonder, and ask why these arms
Fill thy soft bosom with tender alarms,
Swaying so wickedly? Are they misplaced
Clasping or shielding some delicate waist?
Hands whose coarse sinews may fill you with fear
Only the better protect you, my dear!

Little Red Riding-Hood, when in the street,
Why do I press your small hand when we meet?
Why, when you timidly offered your cheek,
Why did I sigh, and why didnt I speak?
Why, well: you see if the truth must appear
Im not your grandmother, Riding-Hood, d...

Bret Harte

Little Blue Hood

Every morning and every night
    There passes our window near the street,
A little girl with an eye so bright,
    And a cheek so round and a lip so sweet!
The daintiest, jauntiest little miss
That ever any one longed to kiss,

She is neat as wax, and fresh to view,
    And her look is wholesome, and clean, and good.
Whatever her gown, her hood is blue,
    And so we call her our "Little Blue Hood,"
For we know not the name of the dear little lass,
But we call to each other to see her pass,

"Little Blue Hood is coming now!"
    And we watch from the window while she goes by,
She has such a bonny, smooth, white brow,
    And a fearless look in her long-lashed eye!
And a certain dignity wedded to grace
Seems to envelop her form and face.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox