# RILEY

# SONGS OF HOME

## JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY

### WITH PICTURES BY

## WILL VAWTER

#### NEW YORK

#### GROSSET & DUNLAP

#### PUBLISHERS

##### 1910

#### BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY

### TO

## GEORGE A. CARR

### CONTENTS

AS CREATED
56
AS MY UNCLE USED TO SAY
126
AT SEA
160
BACKWARD LOOK, A
155
BEST IS GOOD ENOUGH, THE
123
BOYS, THE
104
"BRAVE REFRAIN, A"
113
DREAMER, SAY
61
FEEL IN THE CHRIS'MAS AIR
52
FOR YOU
50
GOOD MAN, A
132
HER BEAUTIFUL HANDS
189
HIS ROOM
38
HONEY DRIPPING FROM THE COMB
125
"HOW DID YOU REST, LAST NIGHT?"
94
IN THE EVENING
115
IT'S GOT TO BE
107
JACK-IN-THE-BOX
100
JIM
117
JOHN MCKEEN
165
JUST TO BE GOOD
26
KNEELING WITH HERRICK
138
LAUGHTER HOLDING BOTH HIS SIDES
81
MULBERRY TREE, THE
46
MY DANCIN' DAYS IS OVER
184
MY FRIEND
29
NATURAL PERVERSITIES
70
NOT ALWAYS GLAD WHEN WE SMILE
36
OLD DAYS, THE
135
OLD GUITAR, THE
161
OLD TRUNDLE-BED, THE
64
OUR BOYHOOD HAUNTS
182
OUR KIND OF A MAN
92
OUR OWN
63
"OUT OF REACH?"
112
OUT OF THE HITHERWHERE
98
PLAINT HUMAN, THE
43
QUEST, THE
44
RAINY MORNING, THE
141
REACH YOUR HAND TO ME
143
SCRAWL, A
75
SONG OF PARTING
90
SONG OF YESTERDAY, THE
82
SPRING SONG AND A LATER, A
137
"THEM OLD CHEERY WORDS"
172
THINKIN' BACK
31
THROUGH SLEEPY-LAND
170
TO MY OLD FRIEND, WILLIAM LEACHMAN
145
TO THE JUDGE
177
WE MUST BELIEVE
130
WE MUST GET HOME
19
WHERE-AWAY
57
WHO BIDES HIS TIME
68
WRITIN' BACK TO THE HOME-FOLKS
76

## RILEY SONGS OF HOME

### WE MUST GET HOME

### JUST TO BE GOOD

This is enough—enough!
Ah! though we miss
All else but this,
To be good is enough!
Enough—just to be good!
Ah! though we miss
All else but this,
To be good is enough!

### MY FRIEND

### THINKIN' BACK

age
feelin'
young
Aprile first
Ooh! my-oh!
a-thinkin'
him

### NOT ALWAYS GLAD WHEN WE SMILE

Though we wear a fair face and are gay,
And the world we deceive
May not ever believe
We could laugh in a happier way.—
Ofttimes, with our faces aglow,
There's an ache and a moan
That we know of alone,
For the heart, in a tempest of pain,
May live in the guise
Of a smile in the eyes
As a rainbow may live in the rain;
May hang out a radiant star
Whose light in the sky
Of despair is a lie
But the conscience is quick to record,
All the sorrow and sin
We are hiding within
Is plain in the sight of the Lord:
And evasion shall cease to defile
The sacred recess
Of the soul, we confess

### HIS ROOM

I'm home again, and happy, too,
I find myself alone with you:
Though brief my stay, nor far away,
I missed you—missed you night and day—
As wildly yearned for you as now.—
Old Room, how are you, anyhow?
Awaits me just within the door;
Have never seemed so bright before,—
The old rosettes and mignonettes
And ivy-leaves and violets,
Look up as pure and fresh of hue
As though baptized in morning dew.
Fold round me like the arms of love,
A blessing pure as from above—
Even as a nestling child caressed
And lulled upon a loving breast,
With folded eyes, too glad to weep
And yet too sad for dreams or sleep.
So patient in your tender care,
Has blossomed for you unaware;
And who but you had cared to woo
A heart so dark, and heavy, too,
As in the past you lifted mine
From out the shadow to the shine?
When first you gladly welcomed me
Than rioting incessantly:
And thus the din that stormed within
The old guitar and violin
Has fallen in a fainter tone
And sweeter, for your sake alone.
In festal halls a favored guest,
My worthy work and worthy rest—
By this I know that long ago
You loved me first, and told me so
In art's mute eloquence of speech
The voice of praise may never reach.
Confuse the faces of my friends,
I find unraveling at the ends;
But as I turn to you, and learn
To meet my griefs with less concern,
Your love seems all I have to keep
Me smiling lest I needs must weep.
Forget the world and all its woes;
Old Room, and lull me to repose:
And as we glide adown the tide
Of dreams, forever side by side,
I'll hold your hands as lovers do
Their sweethearts' and talk love to you."

### THE PLAINT HUMAN

Seasons of loss and gain!—
Why do we still complain?
O my intolerant brother—
And much too much of the other.

### THE QUEST

my

### THE MULBERRY TREE

### FOR YOU

Delirium of merriment,
In endless silence of content.
I could forget, for your dear sake,
The utter emptiness and ache
Of every loss I ever knew.—
What could I not forget for you?
Of mine own sins, and so erase
And all that mars or masks my face.
For your fair sake I could forget
The bonds of life that chafe and fret,
Nor care if death were false or true.—
What could I not forget for you?
One thing, I know, would still abide
Though all of love were lost beside—
I yet would feel how first the wine
Of your sweet lips made fools of mine
Until they sung, all drunken through—
"What could I not forget for you?"

### A FEEL IN THE CHRIS'MAS-AIR

feel
When the Chris'mas-times sets in.
As ever I've run ag'in!—
And gineral health, I swear
goneness
A kind o' feel in the air.
To the spot where a man lives at!—
They ain't no doubt about that!—
somepin
That follers me, here and there,
A kind o' feel in the air!
feel
As blame-don sad as sweet!—
And am spryest on my feet,
ache
That I can't lo-cate no-where;—
Chris'mas
A kind o' feel in the air.
W'y, no!—God bless 'em!—no!—
Like my own wuz, long ago?—
O' the little toy-drum and blare
No! no!
The sad-sweet feel in the air.

### AS CREATED

Every heart of man or woman,—
Or however brimmed with gall,
After all.

### WHERE-AWAY

### DREAMER, SAY

A wild sweet dream of a foreign land,
With lips of coral and silver sand;
Or lave themselves in the tearful mist
O'er crags of opal and amethyst?
Of tropic shades in the lands of shine,
That flows like a rill of wasted wine,—
Parry the shafts of the Indian sun
The reeds below where the waters run?
That lives in a land of sweet perfume,
In molten spatters of bud and bloom?
And never a sob in the balmy air,
Breaks the sleep of the silence there?

### OUR OWN

We gossip, knee-by-knee;
Of all their joys to be,—
All desolate we cry
Good-by! Good-by! Good-by!

### THE OLD TRUNDLE-BED

### WHO BIDES HIS TIME

Faces defeat full patiently,
However poor his fortunes be,—
Of poverty—the paltry clime
Who bides his time.
Of honey in the saltest tear;
Joy runs to meet him, drawing near;
And, like a never-ending rhyme,
Who bides his time.
In the hot race that none achieves,
With crimson berries in the leaves;
And sway his hand o'er every clime,
Who bides his time.

### NATURAL PERVERSITIES

In scientific doubt
To puzzle us about,—
Of wise elucidation,
From simple observation.
little
I never missed a train
run
I never knew it rain
Or, when in my possession,
A jocular expression.
To dun me for a debt
I never knew one yet,
To make the least invasion,—
Have courted no occasion.
What Nature has in view
To trust we oughtn't to.—
Disastrously exploded
We didn't think was loaded.
And what is worse by half,
And never raise a laugh:
And sparkling jests and liquor,
To melt in tears the quicker.
The right; in like effect,
Do most when we neglect.—
As wild and quick as tinder,
The more we seem to hinder.
And, on the selfsame plan,
Was quite a little man:
We prove a thing, then doubt it,—
everything
Know anything about it.

### A SCRAWL

I try and I try, but the rhymes are dull
Limp and unlovable.
They will not walk as I want them to,
Of my telling my love for you.
Knowing I love you as sun the sod
That swings in the smile of God.

### WRITIN' BACK TO THE HOME-FOLKS

The way you write a letter
last
first
And ever' next-un's better!—
You make so interestin',
Can't tell which is the best-un.
'Pears-like I almost hear ye
And hitch my cheer up near ye
Acrosst the whole per-rairies
And country couples marries.
To talk jes like we're thinkin',
And giggle-un and winkin',
Like some is allus doin',—
Is
turned
Er shore-enough a new-un!"—
'A leetle kindo'-sorto'"—
Jes 'cause he hadn't ort to?"
dad-libitum
Tel all of us feels, someway,
When we git up to come 'way!
old
Jes 'cause you're so abidin'.—
fer keeps
My principul residin'
Me allus thinkin' of 'em,
To tell 'em how I love 'em.—
I wouldn't live without 'em,
But what I dreamp' about 'em,—
We'd all love one-another
And Madaline and Mother.

### LAUGHTER HOLDING BOTH HIS SIDES

### THE SONG OF YESTERDAY

I
II
III
IV

### SONG OF PARTING

Shatter every vow!
Will be welcome now!
And if this fair hand I touch
I have worshipped overmuch,
It was my mistake—and so,
Say farewell, and let me go.
Murmur no regret,
Do not waste them yet!
They might pour as pours the rain,
And not wash away the pain:
I have tried them and I know.—
Say farewell, and let me go.
Think me not untrue—
I am true to you!
If the ghost of love may stay
Where my fond heart dies to-day,
I am with you alway—so,
Say farewell, and let me go.

### OUR KIND OF A MAN

I
II

### "HOW DID YOU REST, LAST NIGHT?"

I've heard my gran'pap say
Jes them words thataway!
To ever heave in sight
"How did you rest, last night?"
At breakfast, on the sly,
And eyebrows belt so high
How did you rest, last night?
We'd mumble and let on
Was dim, and hearin' gone.

All I'm a-wantin' is
And sweet a sleep as his!
To wake, and with its light
his
"How did you rest, last night?"

### OUT OF THE HITHERWHERE

### JACK-IN-THE-BOX

(Grandfather, musing.)
You bring such curious things to me!—

### THE BOYS

As when we raced over
Pink pastures of clover,
Forever adrift down the years that are flown?
Where over the meadow,
In sunshine and shadow,
The whippoorwill's call has a sorrowful tone,
I want the glad luster
Of youth, and the cluster

### IT'S GOT TO BE

got
As I notice the years whiz past,
When we size it up, at last,—
boyhood
And I knowed we had to quit,—
got
goin'
So I said "Good-by" to it.
got
goin'
So at least I always try
"Well, it's got to be. Good-by!"
When it's got to be, it melts!
Ef I can't keep nothin' else!
That I'd soon be twenty-two,—
And I said, "Good-by to you!"
got
goin'
So at least I always try
"Well, it's got to be.—Good-by!"
Yet still I smiled and smiled,—
And I now had a wife and child:
Till, last, on her bed of pain,
And I said "Good-by" again.
got
goin'
So at least I always try
"Well, it's got to be. Good-by!"
Almost a man in size,—
With his mother's smilin' eyes.—
And followed me. And I
I found him, and then, ... "Good-by."
got
goin'
So at least I always try
"Well, it's got to be. Good-by!"
With my very best good will,
Am a cheerful old man still:
got
goin'
And this is the thing I'll do,—
And say "Good-by" to you!...
got
When his old scythe circles high,
As I say "Good-by!—Good-by!"

### "OUT OF REACH?"

Nay, by my own dead, I deny
'Tis not so far to die.
And outheld hands and welcoming speech,
This side of "out-of-reach."

### "A BRAVE REFRAIN"

And the knuckled twigs are gloved with frost;
And the old pathway to the barn is lost;
And the stamp of the stabled horse is vain,
O then is the time for a brave refrain!
And the tallow gleams in frozen streaks;
And the pump sounds hoarse and the handle squeaks;
And the frost is scratched from the window-pane
O then is the time for a brave refrain!
And hob-nailed shoes on the hearth below,
And the eight-day clock ticks loud and slow;
'Neath the kitchen-loft, and the drowsy brain
O then is the time for a brave refrain!

#### ENVOI

### IN THE EVENING

I
When the first far stars above
Than the dewy eyes of love,
To the vanished morns and Mays
In the evening of our days?
II
Till the twain are thrilled as now,
Shall my kiss upon your brow
And, in all forgetful ways,
In the evening of our days?
III
Shall enfold us velvetwise,
Of the gladness of your eyes:
Mingles with the darkening maze,
In the evening of our days.

### JIM

jour.,
Consumpted-lookin'—but la!
laughin'est, jolliest
Feller you ever saw!
enough in his talk,
And his feelin's, too!
a-carryin' on
Like he ust to do!
dirt,
A better feller'n Jim!
You could git it o' him!
guess!
Give up ever' nickel he's worth—
was his,
He'd a-give you the earth!
Pore feller onto his feet—
So's the feller got somepin' to eat!
he
dressed,
He ust to say to me,—
winter-time, a-huntin' a job,
And he'll git along!" says he.
much
O' this world's goods at a time.—
and haf to, more'n like,
Turn round and borry a dime!
then jerk his coat.
And kindo' square his chin,
shoe-bench,
And go to peggin' ag'in!
natchurly
Coughed hisse'f to death!
whisper and say
He could git ever'thing but his breath—
You fellers
"Is a-pilin' onto me
ghost o' mine to pack
Through all Eternity!"
'At ortn't a-never a-died!
said—
"On'y to Jim!" and cried:
shop—
Er the whole blame neighborhood,—
anything else that day
But jes set around and feel good!"

### THE BEST IS GOOD ENOUGH

you

### HONEY DRIPPING FROM THE COMB

Upon the dead sea of the Past!—A view—
A far-off "Ooh! ooh-ooh!"
In some wood's-pasture of the Long Ago—
Of rest we used to know.
A wilted apple that the worm had spurned.—
Of good old days returned.—
Tinkles a tune so tender and complete,
So bitter, yet so sweet!

### AS MY UNCLE USED TO SAY

As my uncle ust to say,—
W'y, they ain't no use to pray!
tears
sweat
As my uncle ust to say.
As my uncle ust to say,
Ner whistle their lives away!
As my uncle ust to say.
As my uncle ust to say,
And our round-up, night and day:
His
As my uncle ust to say.

### WE MUST BELIEVE

Lord, I believe: help Thou mine unbelief.
And wind and bind them as one harvest-sheaf
forever
Lord, I believe:
Help Thou mine unbelief.
have
promise
The eyes uplifting from all deeps of grief,
Lord, I believe:
Help Thou mine unbelief.
And lead each as Thine Own Child—even the Chief
Lord, I believe:
Help Thou mine unbelief.

### A GOOD MAN

I
In worthy deed and prayer
If smiles or tears be there:
Lives for the world he tries
A good man never dies.
II
His share of toil and stress,
Makes every burden less,—
Lie fallen—hands and eyes
A good man never dies.

### THE OLD DAYS

The overdear and fair!—
How lovely they were!
With the dew-drench on the flowers
Of those old days of ours.
real
Spendthrift Summer flung;
real
Bird or Poet sung!
Only honest praise—
In the old days.
The first and the best;
Close where they rest:
Would we were there!...
How lovely they were!

### A SPRING SONG AND A LATER

Wherein once more I heard
The orchard's earliest bird—
New-clad in leaf and bloom,
In dewy gleam and gloom.
Of heart and spirit fell
Still irresistible,—
To mate her bright refrain.
As dim as Autumn rain.

### KNEELING WITH HERRICK

Give me content—
Whate'er it be:
And simple hoard;
The chimney wide,
And twine about
And household worth:
The rafters low;
As fingers might
The children croon:
Thou boldest true,
My comfort there,—
That makes each seat
Loved as the rest.

### THE RAINY MORNING

And the lowering clouds o'erhead
Where the sweet sunshine lay dead;
Like an endless sigh of pain,
And writhed in the falling rain.
To chord my harp with the sun,
And the task was a weary one:
And sick of a discontent,
And mourned with the instrument.
Of the sun bent over me,
As a father's hand might be:
My clouded soul grew bright,
Melted in mists of light.

### REACH YOUR HAND TO ME

With its heartiest caress—
To its present faithfulness—
Sometime I may ask in vain
For the touch of it again,
When between us land or sea
Holds it ever back from me.
Groping somewhere in the night,
Just a touch, however light,
Would make all the darkness day,
And along some sunny way
Lead me through an April-shower
Of my tears to this fair hour.
To go on forever thus!
Who can say what waits for us?—
Meeting—greeting, night and day,
Faring each the selfsame way—
Still somewhere the path must end.—
Reach your hand to me, my friend!

### TO MY OLD FRIEND, WILLIAM LEACHMAM

dim

### A BACKWARD LOOK

And lazily leaning back in my chair,
From weariness, toil and care,—
Left ajar the gates of my mind,—
Slipped out in street of "Auld Lang Syne."
Through scenes of silence, and jubilee
As far as the eye could see;
The same old dreams of our boyhood's days
Of walking asleep in the world's strange ways.
And there was the selfsame clock that ticked
And helped when the apples were picked.
With the gilded collar and yellow eyes,
Sound asleep with the dear surprise.
Where the grass was worn from the trampled ground
Doin' "sky-scrapers," or "whirlin' round:"
And again "had shows" in the buggy-shed
The old ghosts romp through the best days dead!
With a wistful look of a long June day,
He had such a "partial" way,
Of a probable likelihood to be
Catching a note from me.
Where the big, white, hollow, old sycamore grows,—
On the fellow that tied the clothes.—
That it seems to me now that then
Than it ever will have again.

### AT SEA

But Hope remains behind,
And Peace, of passive mind;
With lifted sails of prayer,
Nor find it anywhere.
Yet keepest from our eyes
In calms of Paradise,
With all the driving rain
And waft us home again.

### THE OLD GUITAR

And moldering into decay;
That the dull dust hides away,
In its silent lips to-day.
The sinews of brave old airs
So closely here declares
And the faded hue it wears.
Has cherished a smile for me;
That comes with a memory
And a moonlit balcony.
Or the minstrel's powers invent,
Of the fairy hands that lent
On the dear old instrument.
Still blooms; and the tiny sets
In the keys, and the silver frets;
Alas for the heart's regrets!—
And the wounds of rift and scar
Enthralled with a stronger bar
Like that of the old guitar!

### JOHN McKEEN

His loosened collar, and swarthy throat;
And the wealth of a workman's vote!
And tilt him back in his Windsor chair
And the crickets everywhere!
With a watery jingle of pans and spoons,
And old-time fiddle-tunes!
And fill the hearing with childish glee
Old book of the Used-to-be!
To have grown ambitious in worldly ways!—
Out on election days!
To yield you the office you still maintain?
To the hunger of heart and brain?
Edging the drives where your blooded span
And the mirth, and the happy man?
Your faded wife is a close recluse;
And marry as you shall choose!—
With the watery jingle of pans and spoons,
And the old-time fiddle-tunes!

### THROUGH SLEEPY-LAND

Little Boy! Little Boy! where?
A-wandering 'way in there;—in there—
A-wandering 'way in there!
Little Boy, 'way in there?
And mermaids, smiling out—'way in where
They're a-hiding—'way in there!
Little Boy! Little Boy! where?
And the Wee Folk—'way in there—in there—
And the Kelpies—'way in there!
Little Boy! Little Boy! what?
And tell her everything I've forgot
About, a-wandering 'way in there—
Through the blind-world 'way in there!

### "THEM OLD CHEERY WORDS"

"Chris'mus comes but onc't a year!"
In his old split-bottomed cheer
And Eldory home fer two
Old folks tickled through and through,
we
Ser'ous in his "daily walk,"
Was no hand to joke er talk.
flinched
Hurt his wownd in winter. But
Mother
Watched his feet, and made him putt
Pap 'u'd say, and snap his eyes ...
Round the hearth, and me and 'Lize
Jest a-heppin' Pap: She'd fill
O' hard cider; er set still
"Boys," he'd say, "and you girls, too,
So, as you've a right to do,
Celebrate
Them old cheery words, you know.
All of us—then had to go
"Chris'mus comes but onc't a year!"
"Chris'mus comes but onc't a year!"
Allus
There

### TO THE JUDGE

A Voice From the Interior of Old Hoop-Pole Township
Can't you arrange to come down
Out of the dust of the town?
And put by your dolorous frown
Can't you arrange to come down?
The arguments prosy and drear,—
In the lap of the greenery here?
And "husk" yourself out of your gown
Can't you arrange to come down?
And bah! for its technical lore!
But wish himself low as before!
Poke your bald head through a crown
Can't you arrange to come down?
here
The birds are in session by dawn;
complaints
And a breath that your betters have drawn;
To a jury of kine, white and brown,
Can't you arrange to come down?
Pigeonhole Blackstone and Kent!—
Twain, Burdette, Nye, and content!
And put by your dolorous frown
Can't you arrange to come down?

### OUR BOYHOOD HAUNTS

fleur-de-lis

### MY DANCIN'-DAYS IS OVER

Kindo' like that sweet-sick feelin', in the long sweep of a swing,
The first you ever swung in, with yer first sweet-heart, i jing!—
Yer first picnic—yer first ice-cream—yer first o' ever'thing
'At happened 'fore yer dancin'-days wuz over!
A-fiddlin' old "Gray Eagle"—And-sir! I jes stopped my load
O' hay and listened at him—yes, and watched the way he "bow'd,"—
And back I went, plum forty year', with boys and girls I knowed
And loved, long 'fore my dancin'-days wuz over!—
A-marchin'—and fire-ingines.—All the noise, the whole street through,
Wuz lost on me!—I only heerd a whipperwill er two,
It 'peared-like, kindo' callin' 'crost the darkness and the dew,
Them nights afore my dancin'-days wuz over.
With old Lew Church from Sugar Crick, with that old fiddle he
Had sawed clean through the Army, from Atlanty to the sea—
And yit he'd fetched, her home ag'in, so's he could play fer me
One't more afore my dancin'-days wuz over!
And all the girls 'at then wuz girls—I saw 'em, one and all,
As plain as then—the middle-sized, the short-and-fat, and tall—
And, 'peared-like, I danced "Tucker" fer 'em up and down the wall
Jes like afore my dancin' days wuz over!

po
you
all
But, jes the same,—in spite of all 'at you call "interprise
And prog-gress of you-folks Today," we're all of fambly-ties—
We're all got feelin's fittin' fer the tears 'at's in our eyes
Er the smiles afore our dancin'-days is over.

### HER BEAUTIFUL HANDS