The Rambo-Tree

When Autumn shakes the rambo-tree -
    It's a long, sweet way across the orchard! -
The bird sings low as the bumble-bee -
    It's a long, sweet way across the orchard! -
The poor shote-pig he says, says he:
"When Autumn shakes the rambo-tree
There's enough for you and enough for me." -
    It's a long, sweet way across the orchard.

For just two truant lads like we,
When Autumn shakes the rambo-tree
There's enough for you and enough for me -
    It's a long, sweet way across the orchard.

When Autumn shakes the rambo-tree -
    It's a long, sweet way across the orchard! -
The mole digs out to peep and see -
    It's a long, sweet way across the orchard! -
The dusk sags down, and the moon swings free,
There's a far, lorn call, "Pig-gee! 'Pig-gee!"
And two boys - glad enough for three. -
    It's a long, sweet way across the orchard.

For just two truant lads like we,
When Autumn shakes the rambo-tree
There's enough for you and enough for me -
    It's a long, sweet way across the orchard.

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

Wait For The Morning.

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

On The Banks O' Deer Crick.

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

A Monument For The Soldiers.

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

Being His Mother.

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

English

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The Mulberry Tree

It's many's the scenes which is dear to my mind
As I think of my childhood so long left behind;
The home of my birth, with it's old puncheon-floor,
And the bright morning-glories that growed round the door;
The warped clab-board roof whare the rain it run off
Into streams of sweet dreams as I laid in the loft,
Countin' all of the joys that was dearest to me,
And a-thinkin' the most of the mulberry tree.

And to-day as I dream, with both eyes wide-awake,
I can see the old tree, and its limbs as they shake,
And the long purple berries that rained on the ground
Whare the pastur' was bald whare we trommpt it around.
And again, peekin' up through the thick leafy shade,
I can see the glad smiles of the friends when I strayed
With my little bare feet from my own mother's ...

James Whitcomb Riley

The Orchard Lands Of Long Ago

The orchard lands of Long Ago!
O drowsy winds, awake, and blow
The snowy blossoms back to me,
And all the buds that used to be!
Blow back along the grassy ways
Of truant feet, and lift the haze
Of happy summer from the trees
That trail their tresses in the seas
Of grain that float and overflow
The orchard lands of Long Ago!

Blow back the melody that slips
In lazy laughter from the lips
That marvel much if any kiss
Is sweeter than the apple's is.
Blow back the twitter of the birds -
The lisp, the titter, and the words
Of merriment that found the shine
Of summer-time a glorious wine
That drenched the leaves that loved it so,
In orchard lands of Long Ago!

O memory! alight and sing
Where rosy-bellied pippins cling,
And gol...

James Whitcomb Riley

Time Of Clearer Twitterings

I.

Time of crisp and tawny leaves,
And of tarnished harvest sheaves,
And of dusty grasses - weeds -
Thistles, with their tufted seeds
Voyaging the Autumn breeze
Like as fairy argosies:
Time of quicker flash of wings,
And of clearer twitterings
In the grove, or deeper shade
Of the tangled everglade, -
Where the spotted water-snake
Coils him in the sunniest brake;
And the bittern, as in fright,
Darts, in sudden, slanting flight,
Southward, while the startled crane
Films his eyes in dreams again.

II

Down along the dwindled creek
We go loitering. We speak
Only with old questionings
Of the dear remembered things
Of the days of long ago,
When the stream seemed thus and so
In our boyish eyes: - The bank
G...

James Whitcomb Riley

When The Green Gits Back In The Trees

In Spring, when the green gits back in the trees,
    And the sun comes out and STAYS,
And yer boots pulls on with a good tight squeeze,
And you think of yer bare-foot days;
When you ORT to work and you want to NOT,
And you and yer wife agrees
It's time to spade up the garden-lot,
When the green gits back in the trees
    Well! work is the least o' MY idees
    When the green, you know, gits back in the trees!

When the green gits back in the trees, and bees
Is a-buzzin' aroun' ag'in
In that kind of a lazy go-as-you-please
Old gait they bum roun' in;
When the groun's all bald whare the hay-rick stood,
And the crick's riz, and the breeze
Coaxes the bloom in the old dogwood,
And the green gits back in the trees, -
    I like, as I say, in sich sce...

James Whitcomb Riley

How John Quit The Farm.

    Nobody on the old farm here but Mother, me and John,
    Except, of course, the extry he'p when harvest-time come on -
    And then, I want to say to you, we needed he'p about,
    As you'd admit, ef you'd a-seen the way the crops turned out!

    A better quarter-section, ner a richer soil warn't found
    Than this-here old-home place o' ourn fer fifty miles around! -
    The house was small - but plenty-big we found it from the day
    That John - our only livin' son - packed up and went way.

    You see, we tuck sich pride in John - his mother more 'n me -
    That's natchurul; but both of us was proud as proud could be;
    Fer the boy, from a little chap, was most oncommon bright,
    And seemed in work as well as play to take the same delight.
...

James Whitcomb Riley

The Child-World

A Child-World, yet a wondrous world no less,
To those who knew its boundless happiness.
A simple old frame house - eight rooms in all -
Set just one side the center of a small
But very hopeful Indiana town, -
The upper-story looking squarely down
Upon the main street, and the main highway
From East to West, - historic in its day,
Known as The National Road - old-timers, all
Who linger yet, will happily recall
It as the scheme and handiwork, as well
As property, of "Uncle Sam," and tell
Of its importance, "long and long afore
Railroads wuz ever dreamp' of!" - Furthermore,
The reminiscent first Inhabitants
Will make that old road blossom with romance
Of snowy caravans, in long parade
Of covered vehicles, of every grade
From ox-cart of most primi...

James Whitcomb Riley