THE BOOK OF
JOYOUS CHILDREN
JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY
THE BOOK OF
JOYOUS CHILDREN
JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY
Illustrated by J.W. VAWTER
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1902
———————
Published October, 1902
THE BOOK OF
JOYOUS CHILDREN
"Not in classic lore, but rich in
the child-sagas of the kitchen."
GRATEFULLY AND AFFECTIONATELY
INSCRIBED
TO
JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS
You who to the rounded prime
Of a life of toil and stress,
Still have kept the morning-time
Of glad youth in heart and spirit,
So your laugh, as children hear it,
Seems their own, no less,—
Take this book of childish rhyme—
The Book of Joyous Children.
Their first happiness on earth
Here is echoed—their first glee:
Rich, in sooth, the volume's worth—
Not in classic lore, but rich in
The child-sagas of the kitchen;—
Therefore, take from me
To your heart of childish mirth
The Book of Joyous Children.
CONTENTS
[x] [FOOL-YOUNGENS]
[IN FERVENT PRAISE OF PICNICS]
[THE GOOD, OLD-FASHIONED PEOPLE]
A SESSION WITH UNCLE SIDNEY:
[III SINGS A "WINKY-TOODEN" SONG]
[3 THE GATHERING OF THE CLANS]
SOME SONGS AFTER MASTER-SINGERS:
[OLD MAN WHISKERY-WHEE-KUM-WHEEZE]
[LITTLE-GIRL-TWO-LITTLE-GIRLS]
[THE TREASURE OF THE WISE MAN]
FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS
[NOT IN CLASSIC LOOK, BUT RICH IN THE CHILD-SAGAS OF THE KITCHEN]
[KNEEL, ALL GLOWING, TO THE COOL SPRING]
[NO BOY KNOWS WHEN HE GOES TO SLEEP]
[WHILE ALL THE ARMY, FOLLOWING, IN CHORUS CHEERS AND SINGS]
[WHERE IT GOES WHEN THE FIRE GOES OUT?]
[THE FAIRY QUEEN OF THE SEASONS]
[SQUINT' OUR EYES AN' LAUGH' AGAIN]
[HE'S A-MARCHIN' ROUND THE ROOM]
[THE OLD TREE SAYS HE'S ALL OUR TREE]
[SHE'S BUT A RACING SCHOOL-GIRL]
[xiv] [THEY WAS GOD'S PEOPLE]
[THEM WUZ THE BEST TIMES EVER WUZ]
[HE'S GO' HITCH UP, CHRIS'MUS-DAY, AN' COME TAKE ME BACK AGAIN]
[A BIG, HOLLOW, OLD OAK-TREE, WHICH HAD BEEN BLOWN DOWN BY A STORM]
[THE YOUNG FOXES IN IT, ON THE HEARTH BESIDE HER]
[AN' ALL BE POETS AN' ALL RECITE]
[ALONG THE BRINK OF WILD BROOK-WAYS]
[WHILE KATE PICKS BY, YET LOOKS NOT THERE]
[LEND ME THE BREATH OF A FRESHENING GALE]
[BOW TO ME IN THE WINDER THERE]
[THE CHILDISH DREAMS IN HIS WISE OLD HEAD]
THE BOOK OF
JOYOUS CHILDREN
THE BOOK OF
JOYOUS CHILDREN
Bound and bordered in leaf-green,
Edged with trellised buds and flowers
And glad Summer-gold, with clean
White and purple morning-glories
Such as suit the songs and stories
Of this book of ours,
Unrevised in text or scene,—
The Book of Joyous Children.
Wild and breathless in their glee—
Lawless rangers of all ways
Winding through lush greenery
Of Elysian vales—the viny,
Bowery groves of shady, shiny
Haunts of childish days.
Spread and read again with me
The Book of Joyous Children.
What a whir of wings, and what
Sudden drench of dews upon
The young brows, wreathed, all unsought,
With the apple-blossom garlands
Of the poets of those far lands
Whence all dreams are drawn
Set herein and soiling not
The Book of Joyous Children.
In their blithe companionship
Taste again, these pages through,
The hot honey on your lip
Of the sun-smit wild strawberry,
Or the chill tart of the cherry;
Kneel, all glowing, to
The cool spring, and with it sip
The Book of Joyous Children.
As their laughter needs no rule,
So accept their language, pray.—
Touch it not with any tool:
Surely we may understand it,—
As the heart has parsed or scanned it
Is a worthy way,
Though found not in any School
The Book of Joyous Children.
"Kneel, all glowing, to the cool spring."
Be a truant—know no place
Of prison under heaven's rim!
Front the Father's smiling face—
Smiling, that you smile the brighter
For the heavy hearts made lighter,
Since you smile with Him.
Take—and thank Him for His grace—
The Book of Joyous Children.
AN IMPROMPTU FAIRY-TALE
When I wuz ist a little bit
o' weenty-teenty kid
I maked up a Fairy-tale,
all by myse'f, I did:—
I
Wunst upon a time wunst
They wuz a Fairy King,
An' ever'thing he have wuz gold—,
His clo'es, an' ever'thing!
An' all the other Fairies
In his goldun Palace-hall
Had to hump an' hustle—
'Cause he wuz bosst of all!
II
He have a goldun trumput,
An' when he blow' on that,
It's a sign he want' his boots,
Er his coat er hat:
They's a sign fer ever'thing,—
An' all the Fairies knowed
Ever' sign, an' come a-hoppin'
When the King blowed!
III
Wunst he blowed an' telled 'em all:
"Saddle up yer bees—
Fireflies is gittin' fat
An' sassy as you please!—
Guess we'll go a-huntin'!"
So they hunt' a little bit,
Till the King blowed "Supper-time,"
Nen they all quit.
IV
Nen they have a Banqut
In the Palace-hall,
An' ist et! an' et! an' et!
Nen they have a Ball;
An' when the Queen o' Fairyland
Come p'omenadin' through,
The King says an' halts her,—
"Guess I'll marry you!"
DREAM-MARCH
"Wasn't it a funny dream!—perfectly bewild'rin'!—
Last night, and night before, and night before that,
Seemed like I saw the march o' regiments o' children,
Marching to the robin's fife and cricket's rat-ta-tat!
Lily-banners overhead, with the dew upon 'em,
On flashed the little army, as with sword and flame;
Like the buzz o' bumble-wings, with the honey on 'em,
Came an eerie, cheery chant, chiming as it came:—
Where go the children? Travelling! Travelling!
Where go the children, travelling ahead?
Some go to kindergarten; some go to day-school;
Some go to night-school; and some go to bed!
Smooth roads or rough roads, warm or winter weather,
On go the children, tow-head and brown,
Brave boys and brave girls, rank and file together,
Marching out of Morning-Land, over dale and down:
Some go a-gypsying out in country places—
Out through the orchards, with blossoms on the boughs
Wild, sweet, and pink and white as their own glad faces;
And some go, at evening, calling home the cows.
Where go the children? Travelling! Travelling!
Where go the children, travelling ahead?
Some go to foreign wars, and camps by the firelight—
Some go to glory so; and some go to bed!
Some go through grassy lanes leading to the city—
Thinner grow the green trees and thicker grows the dust;
Ever, though, to little people any path is pretty
So it leads to newer lands, as they know it must.
Some go to singing less; some go to list'ning;
Some go to thinking over ever-nobler themes;
Some go anhungered, but ever bravely whistling,
Turning never home again only in their dreams.
Where go the children? Travelling! Travelling!
Where go the children, travelling ahead?
Some go to conquer things; some go to try them;
Some go to dream them; and some go to bed!
ELMER BROWN
Awf'lest boy in this-here town
Er anywheres is Elmer Brown!
He'll mock you—yes, an' strangers, too,
An' make a face an' yell at you,—
"Here's the way you look!"
Yes, an' wunst in School one day,
An' Teacher's lookin' wite that way,
He helt his slate, an' hide his head,
An' maked a face at her, an' said,—
"Here's the way you look!"
An' sir! when Rosie Wheeler smile
One morning at him 'crosst the aisle,
He twist his face all up, an' black
His nose wiv ink, an' whisper back,—