Location via proxy:   [ UP ]  
[Report a bug]   [Manage cookies]                

Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

From $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

Afterwhiles
Afterwhiles
Afterwhiles
Ebook156 pages1 hour

Afterwhiles

Rating: 0 out of 5 stars

()

Read preview

About this ebook

"Afterwhiles" by James Whitcomb Riley contains a collection of Riley's poetry including The Rough Sketch, The Ripest Peach, Dearth, and Granny. James Whitcomb Riley was an American writer, poet, and best-selling author. During his lifetime he was known as the "Hoosier Poet" and "Children's Poet" for his dialect works and his children's poetry. His work struck the hearts of middle-Americans due to his Indiana roots which are showcased in many of his poems.
LanguageEnglish
PublisherGood Press
Release dateDec 23, 2019
ISBN4064066148348
Afterwhiles

Read more from James Whitcomb Riley

Related to Afterwhiles

Related ebooks

Poetry For You

View More

Related articles

Related categories

Reviews for Afterwhiles

Rating: 0 out of 5 stars
0 ratings

0 ratings0 reviews

What did you think?

Tap to rate

Review must be at least 10 words

    Book preview

    Afterwhiles - James Whitcomb Riley

    James Whitcomb Riley

    Afterwhiles

    Published by Good Press, 2022

    goodpress@okpublishing.info

    EAN 4064066148348

    Table of Contents

    PROEM (AKA Afterwhiles)

    Herr Weiser

    The Beautiful City

    Lockerbie Street

    Das Krist Kindel

    Anselmo

    A Home-Made Fairy Tale

    The South Wind and the Sun

    The Lost Kiss

    The Sphinx

    If I knew What Poets Know

    Ike Walton's Prayer

    A Rough Sketch

    Our Kind of a Man

    The Harper

    Old Aunt Mary's

    Illileo

    The King

    A Bride

    The Dead Lover

    A Song

    When Bessie Died

    The Shower

    A Life Lesson

    A Scrawl

    Away

    Who Bides His Time

    From the Headboard of a Grave in Paraguay

    Laughter Holding Both His Sides

    Fame

    The Ripest Peach

    A Fruit Piece

    Their Sweet Sorrow

    John McKeen

    Out of Nazareth

    September Dark

    We To Sigh Instead of Sing

    The Blossoms on the Trees

    Last Night— And This

    A Discouraging Model

    Back From a Two-years' Sentence

    The Wandering Jew

    Becalmed

    To Santa Claus

    Where the Children used to Play

    A Glimpse of Pan

    SONNETS

    Pan

    Dusk

    June

    Silence

    Sleep

    Her Hair

    Dearth

    A Voice From the Farm

    The Serenade

    Art and Love

    Longfellow

    Indiana

    Time

    Grant

    IN DIALECT

    Old Fashioned Roses

    Griggsby's Station

    Knee Deep in June

    When The Hearse Comes Back

    A Canary At the Farm

    A Liz Town Humorist

    Kingry's Mill

    Joney

    Like His Mother Used To Make

    The Train Misser

    Granny

    Old October

    Jim

    To Robert Burns

    A New Year's Time at Willards's

    The Town Karnteel

    Regardin' Terry Hut

    Leedle Dutch Baby

    Down On Wriggle Crick

    When De Folks Is Gone

    The Little Town O' Tailholt

    Little Orphant Annie

    PROEM (AKA Afterwhiles)

    Table of Contents

    Where are they— the Afterwhiles—

    Luring us the lengthening miles

    Of our lives? Where is the dawn

    With the dew across the lawn

    Stroked with eager feet the far

    Way the hills and valleys are?

    Were the sun that smites the frown

    Of the eastward-gazer down?

    Where the rifted wreaths of mist

    O'er us, tinged with amethyst,

    Round the mountain's steep defiles?

    Where are the afterwhiles?

    Afterwhile— and we will go

    Thither, yon, and too and fro—

    From the stifling city streets

    To the country's cool retreats—

    From the riot to the rest

    Were hearts beat the placidest:

    Afterwhile, and we will fall

    Under breezy trees, and loll

    In the shade, with thirsty sight

    Drinking deep the blue delight

    Of the skies that will beguile

    Us as children— afterwhile.

    Afterwhile— and one intends

    To be gentler to his friends—,

    To walk with them, in the hush

    Of still evenings, o'er the plush

    Of home-leading fields, and stand

    Long at parting, hand in hand:

    One, in time, will joy to take

    New resolves for some one's sake,

    And wear then the look that lies

    Clear and pure in other eyes—

    We will soothe and reconcile

    His own conscience— afterwhile.

    Afterwhile— we have in view

    A far scene to journey to—,

    Where the old home is, and where

    The old mother waits us there,

    Peering, as the time grows late,

    Down the old path to the gate—.

    How we'll click the latch that locks

    In the pinks and hollyhocks,

    And leap up the path once more

    Where she waits us at the door—!

    How we'll greet the dear old smile,

    And the warm tears— afterwhile!

    Ah, the endless afterwhiles—!

    Leagues on leagues, and miles on miles,

    In distance far withdrawn,

    Stretching on, and on, and on,

    Till the fancy is footsore

    And faints in the dust before

    The last milestone's granite face,

    Hacked with: Here Beginneth Space.

    O far glimmering worlds and wings,

    Mystic smiles and beckonings,

    Lead us through the shadowy aisles

    Out into the afterwhiles.


    Herr Weiser

    Table of Contents

    Herr Weiser—! Three-score-years-and-ten—,

    A hale white rose of his country-men,

    Transplanted here in the Hoosier loam,

    And blossomy as his German home—

    As blossomy and as pure and sweet

    As the cool green glen of his calm retreat,

    Far withdrawn from the noisy town

    Where trade goes clamoring up and down,

    Whose fret and fever, and stress and strife,

    May not trouble his tranquil life!

    Breath of rest, what a balmy gust—!

    Quite of the city's heat and dust,

    Jostling down by the winding road,

    Through the orchard ways of his quaint abode—.

    Tether the horse, as we onward fare

    Under the pear-trees trailing there,

    And thumping the wood bridge at night

    With lumps of ripeness and lush delight,

    Till the stream, as it maunders on till dawn,

    Is powdered and pelted and smiled upon.

    Herr Weiser, with his wholesome face,

    And the gentle blue of his eyes, and grace

    Of unassuming honesty,

    Be there to welcome you and me!

    And what though the toil of the farm be stopped

    And the tireless plans of the place be dropped,

    While the prayerful master's knees are set

    In beds of pansy and mignonette

    And lily and aster and columbine,

    Offered in love, as yours and mine—?

    What, but a blessing of kindly thought,

    Sweet as the breath of forget-me-not—!

    What, but a spirit of lustrous love

    White as the aster he bends above—!

    What, but an odorous memory

    Of the dear old man, made known to me

    In days demanding a help like his—,

    As sweet as the life of the lily is—

    As sweet as the soul of a babe, bloom-wise

    Born of a lily in paradise.


    The Beautiful City

    Table of Contents

    The Beautiful City! Forever

    Its rapturous praises resound;

    We fain would behold it— but never

    A glimpse of its dory is found:

    We slacken our lips at the tender

    White breasts of our mothers to hear

    Of its marvellous beauty and splendor—;

    We see— but the gleam of a tear!

    Yet never the story may tire us—

    First graven in symbols of stone—

    Rewritten on scrolls of papyrus

    And parchment, and scattered and blown

    By the winds of the tongues of all nations,

    Like a litter of leaves wildly whirled

    Down the rack of a hundred translations,

    From the earliest lisp

    Enjoying the preview?
    Page 1 of 1