Song

[W.S.]


With a hey! and a hi! and a hey-ho rhyme!
    O the shepherd lad
    He is ne'er so glad
As when he pipes, in the blossom-time,
    So rare!
While Kate picks by, yet looks not there.
    So rare! so rare!
With a hey! and a hi! and a ho!
The grasses curdle where the daisies blow!

With a hey! and a hi! and a hey-ho vow!
    Then he sips her face
    At the sweetest place -
And ho! how white is the hawthorn now! -
    So rare! -
And the daisied world rocks round them there.
    So rare! so rare!
With a hey! and a hi! and a ho!
The grasses curdle where the daisies blow!

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

Back From a Two-years' Sentence

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

Down On Wriggle Crick

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

A Very Youthful Affair

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

At Noey's House

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

English

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A Ditty Of No Tone.

Piped to the Spirit of John Keats.

    I.

    Would that my lips might pour out in thy praise
        A fitting melody - an air sublime, -
    A song sun-washed and draped in dreamy haze -
        The floss and velvet of luxurious rhyme:
    A lay wrought of warm languors, and o'er-brimmed
        With balminess, and fragrance of wild flowers
            Such as the droning bee ne'er wearies of -
    Such thoughts as might be hymned
        To thee from this midsummer land of ours
            Through shower and sunshine blent for very love.


    II.

    Deep silences in woody aisles wherethrough
        Cool paths go loitering, and where the trill
    Of best-remembered birds hath something new
        In cadence for the hea...

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To Young E. Allison - Bookman

The bookman he's a humming-bird -
    His feasts are honey-fine, -
    (With hi! hilloo!
    And clover-dew
    And roses lush and rare!)
Hiss roses are the phrase and word
    Of olden tomes divine;
    (With hi! and ho!
    And pinks ablow
    And posies everywhere!)
The Bookman he's a humming-bird, -
    He steals from song to song -
He scents the ripest-blooming rhyme,
    And takes his heart along
And sacks all sweets of bursting verse
    And ballads, throng on throng.
    (With ho! and hey!
    And brook and brae,
    And brinks of shade and shine!)

A humming-bird the Bookman is -
    Though cumbrous, gray and grim, -
    (With hi! hilloo!
    And honey-dew
    And odors musty-rare!)
He bends him o'er...

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A Song Of Singing

Sing! gangling lad, along the brink
    Of wild brook-ways of shoal and deep,
Where killdees dip, and cattle drink,
    And glinting little minnows leap!
Sing! slimpsy lass who trips above
    And sets the foot-log quivering!
Sing! bittern, bumble-bee, and dove -
    Sing! Sing! Sing!

Sing as you will, O singers all
    Who sing because you want to sing!
Sing! peacock on the orchard wall,
    Or tree-toad by the trickling spring!
Sing! every bird on every bough -
    Sing! every living, loving thing -
Sing any song, and anyhow,
    But Sing! Sing! Sing!

James Whitcomb Riley

A Session With Uncle Sidney - III - Sings A "Winky-Tooden" Song

O here's a little rhyme for the Spring- or Summer-time -
    An a-ho-winky-tooden-an-a-ho! -
Just a little bit o' tune you can twitter, May or June,
    An a-ho-winky-tooden-an-a-ho!
It's a song that soars and sings,
As the birds that twang their wings
Or the katydids and things
    Thus and so, don't you know,
    An a-ho-winky-tooden-an-a-ho!

It's a song just broken loose, with no reason or excuse -
    An a-ho-winky-tooden-an-a-ho!
You can sing along with it - or it matters not a bit -
    An a-ho-winky-tooden-an-a-ho!
It's a lovely little thing
That 'most any one could sing
With a ringle-dingle-ding,
    Soft and low, don't you know,
    An a-ho-winky-tooden-an-a-ho!

James Whitcomb Riley

A Song Of Long Ago.

    A song of Long Ago:
    Sing it lightly - sing it low -
    Sing it softly - like the lisping of the lips we used to know
    When our baby-laughter spilled
    From the glad hearts ever filled
    With music blithe as robin ever trilled!

    Let the fragrant summer-breeze,
    And the leaves of locust-trees,
    And the apple-buds and blossoms, and the wings of honey-bees,
    All palpitate with glee,
    Till the happy harmony
    Brings back each childish joy to you and me.

    Let the eyes of fancy turn
    Where the tumbled pippins burn
    Like embers in the orchard's lap of tangled grass and fern, -
    There let the old path wind
    In and out and on behind
    The cider-press that chuckles as we grind.

    Blend in the...

James Whitcomb Riley

A Southern Singer.

    Written In Madison Caweln's "Lyrics and Idyls."

    Herein are blown from out the South
    Songs blithe as those of Pan's pursed mouth -
    As sweet in voice as, in perfume,
    The night-breath of magnolia-bloom.

    Such sumptuous languor lures the sense -
    Such luxury of indolence -
    The eyes blur as a nymph's might blur,
    With water-lilies watching her.

    You waken, thrilling at the trill
    Of some wild bird that seems to spill
    The silence full of winey drips
    Of song that Fancy sips and sips.

    Betimes, in brambled lanes wherethrough
    The chipmunk stripes himself from view,
    You pause to lop a creamy spray
    Of elder-blossoms by the way.

    Or where the morning dew is yet
    Gra...

James Whitcomb Riley