The Tree-Toad.

"'Scurious-like," said the tree-toad,
    "I've twittered far rain all day;
    And I got up soon,
    And I hollered till noon -
    But the sun, hit blazed away,
    Till I jest clumb down in a crawfish-hole,
    Weary at heart, and sick at soul!

"Dozed away far an hour,
And I tackled the thing agin;
    And I sung, and sung,
    Till I knowed my lung
Was jest about give in;
    And then, thinks I, ef hit don't rain now.
    There're nothin' in singin', anyhow!

"Once in awhile some
    Would come a drivin' past;
    And he'd hear my cry,
    And stop and sigh -
    Till I jest laid back, at last,
    And I hollered rain till I thought my th'oat
    Would bust right open at ever' note!

"But I fetched her! O I fetched her! -
    'Cause a little while ago,
    As I kindo' set,
    With one eye shet,
    And a-singin' soft and low,
    A voice drapped down on my fevered brain,
    Sayin', - ' Ef you'll jest hush I'll rain!'"

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

The Noble Old Elm

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

Through Sleepy-Land

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

Thanksgiving.

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

The Penalty Of Genius

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

English

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The Tree-Toad

"'S cur'ous-like," said the tree-toad,
"I've twittered fer rain all day;
And I got up soon,
And hollered tel noon -
But the sun, hit blazed away,
Tell I jest clumb down in a crawfish-hole,
Weary at hart, and sick at soul!

"Dozed away fer an hour,
And I tackled the thing agin:
    And I sung, and sung,
    Tel I knowed my lung
Was jest about give in;
    And THEN, thinks I, ef hit don't rain NOW,
    They's nothin' in singin', anyhow!

"Onc't in a while some farmer
Would come a-drivin' past;
    And he'd hear my cry,
    And stop and sigh -
Tel I jest laid back, at last,
    And I hollered rain tel I thought my th'oat
    Would bust wide open at ever' note!

"But I FETCHED her! - O I FETCHED her! -
'Cause a l...

James Whitcomb Riley

The Rain.

I.

The rain! the rain! the rain!
    It gushed from the skies and streamed
Like awful tears; and the sick man thought
    How pitiful it seemed!
And he turned his face away,
    And stared at the wall again,
His hopes nigh dead and his heart worn out.
    O the rain! the rain! the rain!



II.

The rain! the rain! the rain!
    And the broad stream brimmed the shores;
And ever the river crept over the reeds
    And the roots of the sycamores:
A corpse swirled by in a drift
    Where the boat had snapt its chain -
And a hoarse-voiced mother shrieked and raved.
    O the rain! the rain! the rain!



III.

The rain! the rain! the rain! -
    Pouring, with never a pause,
Over the fields and the...

James Whitcomb Riley

Romancin'

I' b'en a-kindo' "musin'," as the feller says, and I'm
About o' the conclusion that they hain't no better time,
When you come to cipher on it, than the times we ust to know
When we swore our first "dog-gone-it" sorto' solum-like and low!

You git my idy, do you? - LITTLE tads, you understand -
Jest a-wishin' thue and thue you that you on'y wuz a MAN. -
Yit here I am, this minit, even sixty, to a day,
And fergittin' all that's in it, wishm' jest the other way!

I hain't no hand to lectur' on the times, er dimonstrate
Whare the trouble is, er hector and domineer with Fate, -
But when I git so flurried, and so pestered-like and blue,
And so rail owdacious worried, let me tell you what I do! -

I jest gee-haw the hosses, and onhook the swingle-tree,
Whare the haze...

James Whitcomb Riley

Dawn, Noon And Dewfall.

    I.

    Dawn, noon and dewfall!    Bluebird and robin
    Up and at it airly, and the orchard-blossoms bobbin'!
    Peekin' from the winder, half-awake, and wishin'
    I could go to sleep agin as well as go a-fishin'!


    II.

    On the apern o' the dam, legs a-danglin' over,
    Drowsy-like with sound o' worter and the smell o' clover:
    Fish all out a visitin' - 'cept some dratted minnor!
    Yes, and mill shet down at last and hands is gone to dinner.


    III.

    Trompin' home acrost the fields:    Lightnin'-bugs a-blinkin'
    In the wheat like sparks o' things feller keeps a-thinkin': -
    Mother waitin' supper, and the childern there to cherr me!
    And fiddle on the kitchen-wall a-jist a-eechin' fer me!

James Whitcomb Riley

A Sudden Shower

Barefooted boys scud up the street
Or skurry under sheltering sheds;
And schoolgirl faces, pale and sweet,
Gleam from the shawls about their heads.

Doors bang; and mother-voices call
From alien homes; and rusty gates
Are slammed; and high above it all,
The thunder grim reverberates.

And then, abrupt, - the rain! the rain! -
The earth lies gasping; and the eyes
Behind the streaming window-pane
Smile at the trouble of the skies.

The highway smokes; sharp echoes ring;
The cattle bawl and cowbells clank;
And into town comes galloping
The farmer's horse, with streaming flank.

The swallow dips beneath the eaves,
And flirts his plumes and folds his wings;
And under the catawba leaves
The caterpillar curls and clings.

...

James Whitcomb Riley

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