The Best Is Good Enough

I quarrel not with Destiny,
But make the best of everything -
The best is good enough for me.

Leave Discontent alone, and she
Will shut her month and let you sing.
I quarrel not with Destiny.

I take some things, or let 'em be -
Good gold has always got the ring;
The best is good enough for me.

Since Fate insists on secrecy,
I have no arguments to bring -
quarrel not with Destiny.

The fellow that goes "haw" for "gee"
Will find he hasn't got full swing.
The best is good enough for me.

One only knows our needs, and He
Does all of the distributing.
I quarrel not with Destiny;
The best is good enough for me.

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

Blooms Of May

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

To The Quiet Observer

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

That Little Dog

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

A Summer Afternoon

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.

Just To Be Good.

    Just to be good -
            This is enough - enough!
    O we who find sin's billows wild and rough,
    Do we not feel how more than any gold
    Would be the blameless life we led of old
    While yet our lips knew but a mother's kiss?
            Ah! though we miss
            All else but this,
    To be good is enough!

    It is enough -
            Enough - just to be good!
    To lift our hearts where they are understood;
    To let the thirst for worldly power and place
    Go unappeased; to smile back in God's face
    With the glad lips our mothers used to kiss.
            Ah! though we miss
            All else but this,
    To be good is enough!

James Whitcomb Riley

Who Bides His Time

Who bides his time, and day by day
Faces defeat full patiently,
And lifts a mirthful roundelay,
However poor his fortunes be,
He will not fail in any qualm
Of poverty - the paltry dime
It will grow golden in his palm,
Who bides his time.

Who bides his time - he tastes the sweet
Of honey in the saltest tear;
And though he fares with slowest feet,
Joy runs to meet him, drawing near;
The birds are heralds of his cause;
And like a never-ending rhyme,
The roadsides bloom in his applause,
Who bides his time.

Who bides his time, and fevers not
In the hot race that none achieves,
Shall wear cool-wreathen laurel, wrought
With crimson berries in the leaves;
And he shall reign a goodly king,
And sway his hand o'er every clime,
Wi...

James Whitcomb Riley

Our Old Friend Neverfail

O it's good to ketch a relative 'at's richer and don't run
When you holler out to hold up, and'll joke and have his fun;
It's good to hear a man called bad and then find out he's not,
Er strike some chap they call lukewarm 'at's really red-hot;

It's good to know the Devil's painted jes' a leetle black,
And it's good to have most anybody pat you on the back; -
But jes' the best thing in the world's our old friend Neverfail,
When he wags yer hand as honest as an old dog wags his tail!

I like to strike the man I owe the same time I can pay,
And take back things I've borried, and su'prise folks thataway;
I like to find out that the man I voted fer last fall,
That didn't git elected, was a scoundrel after all;
I like the man that likes the pore and he'ps 'em when he can;

James Whitcomb Riley

As My Uncle Used To Say.

    I've thought a power on men and things,
        As my uncle ust to say, -
    And ef folks don't work as they pray, i jings!
        W'y, they ain't no use to pray!
    Ef you want somepin', and jes dead-set
    A-pleadin' fer it with both eyes wet,
    And tears won't bring it, w'y, you try sweat,
        As my uncle ust to say.

    They's some don't know their A, B, Cs,
        As my uncle ust to say,
    And yit don't waste no candle-grease,
        Ner whistle their lives away!
    But ef they can't write no book, ner rhyme
    No ringin' song fer to last all time,
    They can blaze the way fer the march sublime,
        As my uncle ust to say.

    Whoever's Foreman of all things here,
        As my uncle ust to say,

James Whitcomb Riley

Destiny

That you are fair or wise is vain,
Or strong, or rich, or generous;
You must add the untaught strain
That sheds beauty on the rose.
There's a melody born of melody,
Which melts the world into a sea.
Toil could never compass it;
Art its height could never hit;
It came never out of wit;
But a music music-born
Well may Jove and Juno scorn.
Thy beauty, if it lack the fire
Which drives me mad with sweet desire,
What boots it? What the soldier's mail,
Unless he conquer and prevail?
What all the goods thy pride which lift,
If thou pine for another's gift?
Alas! that one is born in blight,
Victim of perpetual slight:
When thou lookest on his face,
Thy heart saith, 'Brother, go thy ways!
None shall ask thee what thou doest,
Or care a rush ...

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Says He

"Whatever the weather may be," says he--
    "Whatever the weather may be
It's plaze, if ye will, an' I'll say me say,--
Supposin' to-day was the winterest day,
Wud the weather be changing because ye cried,
Or the snow be grass were ye crucified?
The best is to make your own summer," says he,
"Whatever the weather may be," says he--
    "Whatever the weather may be!

"Whatever the weather may be," says he--
    "Whatever the weather may be,
It's the songs ye sing, an' the smiles ye wear,
That's a-makin' the sun shine everywhere;
An' the world of gloom is a world of glee,
Wid the bird in the bush, an' the bud in the tree,
An' the fruit on the stim of the bough," says he,
"Whatever the weather may be," says he--
    "Whatever the weather may be!
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James Whitcomb Riley