The Old-Fashioned Bible

How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood
    That now but in mem'ry I sadly review;
The old meeting-house at the edge of the wildwood,
    The rail fence, and horses all tethered thereto;
The low, sloping roof, and the bell in the steeple,
    The doves that came fluttering out overhead
As it solemnly gathered the God-fearing people
    To hear the old Bible my grandfather read.
    The old-fashioned Bible -
        The dust-covered Bible -
    The leathern-bound Bible my grandfather read.

The blessed old volume! The face bent above it -
    As now I recall it - is gravely severe,
Though the reverent eye that droops downward to love it
    Makes grander the text through the lens of a tear,
And, as down his features it trickles and glistens,
    The cough of the deacon is stilled, and his head
Like a haloed patriarch's leans as he listens
    To hear the old Bible my grandfather read.
    The old-fashioned Bible -
        The dust-covered Bible -
    The leathern-bound Bible my grandfather read.

Ah! who shall look backward with scorn and derision
    And scoff the old book though it uselessly lies
In the dust of the past, while this newer revision
    Lisps on of a hope and a home in the skies?
Shall the voice of the Master be stifled and riven?
    Shall we hear but a tithe of the words He has said,
When so long He has, listening, leaned out of Heaven
    To hear the old Bible my grandfather read?
    The old-fashioned Bible -
        The dust-covered Bible -
    The leathern-bound Bible my grandfather read.

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.

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The Good, Old-Fashioned People

When we hear Uncle Sidney tell
    About the long-ago
An' old, old friends he loved so well
    When he was young - My-oh! -
Us childern all wish we'd 'a' bin
    A-livin' then with Uncle, - so
We could a-kindo' happened in
    On them old friends he used to know! -
    The good, old-fashioned people -
    The hale, hard-working people -
    The kindly country people
        'At Uncle used to know!

They was God's people, Uncle says,
    An' gloried in His name,
An' worked, without no selfishness,
    An' loved their neighbers same
As they was kin: An' when they biled
    Their tree-molasses, in the Spring,
Er butchered in the Fall, they smiled
    An' sheered with all jist ever'thing! -


    The good, old-fash...

James Whitcomb Riley

The Old Man

Lo! steadfast and serene,
In patient pause between
The seen and the unseen,
    What gentle zephyrs fan
Your silken silver hair, -
And what diviner air
Breathes round you like a prayer,
    Old Man?

Can you, in nearer view
Of Glory, pierce the blue
Of happy Heaven through;
    And, listening mutely, can
Your senses, dull to us,
Hear Angel-voices thus,
In chorus glorious -
    Old Man?

In your reposeful gaze
The dusk of Autumn days
Is blent with April haze,
    As when of old began
The bursting of the bud
Of rosy babyhood -
When all the world was good,
    Old Man.

And yet I find a sly
Little twinkle in your eye;
And your whisperingly shy
    Little laugh is simply an
Internal shout o...

James Whitcomb Riley

An Old Sweetheart Of Mine

An old sweetheart of mine! - Is this her presence here with me,
Or but a vain creation of a lover's memory?
A fair, illusive vision that would vanish into air
Dared I even touch the silence with the whisper of a prayer?

Nay, let me then believe in all the blended false and true -
The semblance of the OLD love and the substance of the NEW, -
The THEN of changeless sunny days - the NOW of shower and shine -
But Love forever smiling - as that old sweetheart of mine.

This ever-restful sense of HOME, though shouts ring in the hall. -
The easy chair - the old book-shelves and prints along the wall;
The rare HABANAS in their box, or gaunt church-warden-stem
That often wags, above the jar, derisively at them.

As one who cons at evening o'er an album, all alone,
And...

James Whitcomb Riley

Old Aunt Mary's (AKA "Out To Old Aunt Mary's")

Wasn't it pleasant, O brother mine,
In those old days of the lost sunshine
Of youth - when the Saturday's chores were through,
And the "Sunday's wood" in the kitchen too,
And we went visiting, "me and you,"
Out to Old Aunt Mary's?

It all comes back so clear to-day!
Though I am as bald as you are gray -
Out by the barn-lot, and down the lane,
We patter along in the dust again,
As light as the tips of the drops of the rain,
Out to Old Aunt Mary's!

We cross the pasture, and through the wood
Where the old gray snag of the poplar stood,
Where the hammering "red-heads" hopped awry,
And the buzzard "raised" in the "clearing" sky
And lolled and circled, as we went by
Out to Old Aunt Mary's.

And then in the dust of the road again;
And t...

James Whitcomb Riley

John Mckeen.

John McKeen, in his rusty dress,
    His loosened collar, and swarthy throat;
His face unshaven, and none the less,
His hearty laugh and his wholesomeness,
    And the wealth of a workman's vote!

Bring him, O Memory, here once more,
    And tilt him back in his Windsor chair
By the kitchen-stove, when the day is o'er
And the light of the hearth is across the floor,
    And the crickets everywhere!

And let their voices be gladly blent
    With a watery jingle of pans and spoons,
And a motherly chirrup of sweet content,
And neighborly gossip and merriment,
    And old-time fiddle-tunes!

Tick the clock with a wooden sound,
    And fill the hearing with childish glee
Of rhyming riddle, or story found
In the Robinson Crusoe, leather-boun...

James Whitcomb Riley

My Old Friend

You've a manner all so mellow,
    My old friend,
That it cheers and warms a fellow,
    My old friend,
Just to meet and greet you, and
Feel the pressure of a hand
That one may understand,
    My old friend.

Though dimmed in youthful splendor,
    My old friend,
Your smiles are still as tender,
    My old friend,
And your eyes as true a blue
As your childhood ever knew,
And your laugh as merry, too,
    My old friend.

For though your hair is faded,
    My old friend,
And your step a trifle jaded,
    My old friend,
Old Time, with all his lures
In the trophies he secures,
Leaves young that heart of yours,
    My old friend.

And so it is you cheer me,
    My old friend,
For to know you still are...

James Whitcomb Riley