A Child-World By: James Whitcomb Riley (1849-1916)
First Page: A CHILD WORLD James Whitcomb Riley A CHILD WORLD The Child World long and long since lost to view A Fairy Paradise! How always fair it was and fresh and new How every affluent hour heaped heart and eyes With treasures of surprise! Enchantments tangible: The under brink Of dawns that launched the sight Up seas of gold: The dewdrop on the pink, With all the green earth in it and blue height Of heavens infinite: The liquid, dripping songs of orchard birds The wee bass of the bees, With lucent deeps of silence afterwards; The gay, clandestine whisperings of the breeze And glad leaves of the trees. O Child World: After this world just as when I found you first sufficed My soulmost need if I found you again, With all my childish dream so realised, I should not be surprised. CONTENTS PROEM THE CHILD WORLD THE OLD HOME FOLKS ALMON KEEPER NOEY BIXLER "A NOTED TRAVELER" A PROSPECTIVE VISIT AT NOEY'S HOUSE "THAT LITTLE DOG" THE LOEHRS AND THE HAMMONDS THE HIRED MAN AND FLORETTY THE EVENING COMPANY MAYMIE'S STORY OF RED RIDING HOOD LIMITATIONS OF GENIUS MR. HAMMOND'S PARABLE THE DREAMER FLORETTY'S MUSICAL CONTRIBUTION BUD'S FAIRY TALE A DELICIOUS INTERRUPTION NOEY'S NIGHT PIECE COUSIN RUFUS' STORY BEWILDERING EMOTIONS ALEX TELLS A BEAR STORY THE PATHOS OF APPLAUSE TOLD BY "THE NOTED TRAVELER" HEAT LIGHTNING UNCLE MART'S POEM "LITTLE JACK JANITOR" FINALE 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 primitive design, To Conestoga wagons, with their fine Deep chested six horse teams, in heavy gear, High names and chiming bells to childish ear And eye entrancing as the glittering train Of some sun smitten pageant of old Spain. And, in like spirit, haply they will tell You of the roadside forests, and the yell Of "wolfs" and "painters," in the long night ride, And "screechin' catamounts" on every side. Of stagecoach days, highwaymen, and strange crimes, And yet unriddled mysteries of the times Called "Good Old." "And why 'Good Old'?" once a rare Old chronicler was asked, who brushed the hair Out of his twinkling eyes and said, "Well John, They're 'good old times' because they're dead and gone!" The old home site was portioned into three Distinctive lots. The front one natively Facing to southward, broad and gaudy fine With lilac, dahlia, rose, and flowering vine The dwelling stood in; and behind that, and Upon the alley north and south, left hand, The old wood house, half, trimly stacked with wood, And half, a work shop, where a workbench stood Steadfastly through all seasons. Over it, Along the wall, hung compass, brace and bit, And square, and drawing knife, and smoothing plane And little jack plane, too the children's vain Possession by pretense in fancy they Manipulating it in endless play, Turning out countless curls and loops of bright, Fine satin shavings Rapture infinite! Shelved quilting frames; the toolchest; the old box Of refuse nails and screws; a rough gun stock's Outline in "curly maple"; and a pair Of clamps and old krout cutter hanging there... Continue reading book >>

A Child-World By: James Whitcomb Riley (1849-1916)

First Page:

A CHILD WORLD

James Whitcomb Riley

A CHILD WORLD

The Child World long and long since lost to view A Fairy Paradise! How always fair it was and fresh and new How every affluent hour heaped heart and eyes With treasures of surprise!

Enchantments tangible: The under brink Of dawns that launched the sight Up seas of gold: The dewdrop on the pink, With all the green earth in it and blue height Of heavens infinite:

The liquid, dripping songs of orchard birds The wee bass of the bees, With lucent deeps of silence afterwards; The gay, clandestine whisperings of the breeze And glad leaves of the trees.

O Child World: After this world just as when I found you first sufficed My soulmost need if I found you again, With all my childish dream so realised, I should not be surprised.

CONTENTS

PROEM

THE CHILD WORLD

THE OLD HOME FOLKS

ALMON KEEPER

NOEY BIXLER

"A NOTED TRAVELER"

A PROSPECTIVE VISIT

AT NOEY'S HOUSE

"THAT LITTLE DOG"

THE LOEHRS AND THE HAMMONDS

THE HIRED MAN AND FLORETTY

THE EVENING COMPANY

MAYMIE'S STORY OF RED RIDING HOOD

LIMITATIONS OF GENIUS

MR. HAMMOND'S PARABLE THE DREAMER

FLORETTY'S MUSICAL CONTRIBUTION

BUD'S FAIRY TALE

A DELICIOUS INTERRUPTION

NOEY'S NIGHT PIECE

COUSIN RUFUS' STORY

BEWILDERING EMOTIONS

ALEX TELLS A BEAR STORY

THE PATHOS OF APPLAUSE

TOLD BY "THE NOTED TRAVELER"

HEAT LIGHTNING

UNCLE MART'S POEM

"LITTLE JACK JANITOR"

FINALE

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 primitive design, To Conestoga wagons, with their fine Deep chested six horse teams, in heavy gear, High names and chiming bells to childish ear And eye entrancing as the glittering train Of some sun smitten pageant of old Spain. And, in like spirit, haply they will tell You of the roadside forests, and the yell Of "wolfs" and "painters," in the long night ride, And "screechin' catamounts" on every side. Of stagecoach days, highwaymen, and strange crimes, And yet unriddled mysteries of the times Called "Good Old." "And why 'Good Old'?" once a rare Old chronicler was asked, who brushed the hair Out of his twinkling eyes and said, "Well John, They're 'good old times' because they're dead and gone!"

The old home site was portioned into three Distinctive lots. The front one natively Facing to southward, broad and gaudy fine With lilac, dahlia, rose, and flowering vine The dwelling stood in; and behind that, and Upon the alley north and south, left hand, The old wood house, half, trimly stacked with wood, And half, a work shop, where a workbench stood Steadfastly through all seasons. Over it, Along the wall, hung compass, brace and bit, And square, and drawing knife, and smoothing plane And little jack plane, too the children's vain Possession by pretense in fancy they Manipulating it in endless play, Turning out countless curls and loops of bright, Fine satin shavings Rapture infinite! Shelved quilting frames; the toolchest; the old box Of refuse nails and screws; a rough gun stock's Outline in "curly maple"; and a pair Of clamps and old krout cutter hanging there... Continue reading book >>

This book is in genre
Literature

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