Riley Farm-Rhymes

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Title: Riley Farm-Rhymes
Author: James Whitcomb Riley
Release Date: December, 2003 [Etext #4783]?[This file was last updated on March 18, 2002]
Edition: 10
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
? START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT RILEY FARM-RHYMES ***
Produced by Robert Rowe, Charles Franks?and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
RILEY FARM-RHYMES
JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY
INSCRIBED WITH ALL GRATEFUL ESTEEM
TO THE GOOD OLD-FASHIONED PEOPLE
The deadnin' and the thicket's jes' a b'ilin' full o' June, From the rattle o' the cricket, to the yaller-hammer's tune; And the catbird in the bottom and the sap-suck on the
snag,?Seems's ef they cain't--od-rot-'em!--jes' do nothin' else
but brag!
There' music in the twitter o' the bluebird and the jay,?And that sassy little critter jes' a-peckin' all the day;?There' music in the "flicker," and there' music in the
thrush,?And there' music in the snicker o' the chipmunk in the
brush!--
There' music all around me!--And I go back--in a dream?Sweeter yit than ever found me fast asleep:--And, in the
stream?That used to split the medder wher' the dandylions
growed,?I stand knee-deep, and redder than the sunset down the
road.
CONTENTS
BROOK SONG, THE?CANARY AT THE FARM, A?CLOVER, THE?COUNTRY PATHWAY, A?GRIGGSBY'S STATION?HOW JOHN QUIT THE FARM?JUNE?KNEE-DEEP IN JUNE?"MYLO JONES'S WIFE"?OLD-FASHIONED ROSES?OLD MAN'S NURSERY RHYME?OLD OCTOBER?OLD WINTERS ON THE FARM?ORCHARD LANDS OF LONG AGO, THE?ROMANCIN'?SEPTEMBER DARK?SONG OF LONG AGO, A?TALE OF THE AIRLY DAYS, A?THOUGHTS FER THE DISCURAGED FARMER?TREE-TOAD, THE?UP AND DOWN OLD BRANDYWINE?WET-WEATHER TALK?WHEN EARLY MARCH SEEMS MIDDLE MAY?WHEN THE FROST IS ON THE PUNKIN?WHEN THE GREEN GITS BACK IN THE TREES?WHERE THE CHILDREN USED TO PLAY?WORTERMELON TIME
RILEY FARM-RHYMES
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 golden russets glint and gleam,?As, in the old Arabian dream,?The fruits of that enchanted tree?The glad Aladdin robbed for me!?And, drowsy winds, awake and fan?My blood as when it overran?A heart ripe as the apples grow?In orchard lands of Long Ago!
WHEN THE FROST IS ON THE PUNKIN
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in
the shock,?And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin'
turkey-cock,?And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the
hens,?And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence;?O, it's then's the times a feller is a-feelin' at his best, With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of peaceful
rest,?As he leaves the house, bare-headed, and goes out to feed
the stock,?When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the
shock.
They's something kindo' harty-like about the atmusfere?When the heat of summer's over and the coolin' fall is
here--?Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossums on the
trees,?And the mumble of the hummin'-birds and buzzin' of the
bees;?But the air's so appetizin'; and the landscape through the
haze?Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days?Is a pictur' that no painter has the colorin' to mock--?When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the
shock.
The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn,?And the raspin' of the tangled leaves, as golden as the
morn;?The stubble in the furries--kindo' lonesome-like, but still A-preachin' sermuns to us of the barns they growed to fill; The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed;?The hosses in theyr stalls below--the clover overhead!--?O, it sets my hart a-clickin' like the tickin' of a clock,?When the frost is on the punkin