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Long about knee-deep in June, 'Bout the time strewberries melts On the vine.

James Whitcomb Riley

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James Whitcomb Riley
Age: 66 †
Born: 1849
Born: October 7
Died: 1916
Died: July 22
Poet
Writer
Greenfield
Indiana
Benjamin P. Johnson of Boone
Jay Whit
Uncle Sidney
James Withcomb Riley
Summer
Bout
Deep
Melts
Long
Time
Vine
Vines
Knee
June
Knees

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I love the horse from hoof to head. From head to hoof and tail to mane. I love the horse as I have said - From head to hoof and back again.
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I don't know how to tell it--but ef such a thing could be As the angels wantin' boardin', and they'd call around on me-- I'd want to 'ccommodate 'em--all the whole-in-durin' flock-- When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.
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One naked star has waded through The purple shallows of the night, And faltering as falls the dew It drips its misty light.
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O, it sets my heart a clickin' like the tickin' of a clock, when the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.
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Oh, the world's a curious compound, with its honey and its gall, With its cares and bitter crosses, but a good world after all. And a good God must have made it-leastways, that is what I say, When a hand is on my shoulder in a friendly sort of way.
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The ripest peach is highest on the tree
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Continuous, unflagging effort, persistence and determination will win. Let not the man be discouraged who has these.
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The jelly - the jam and the marmalade, And the cherry-and quince-'preserves' she made! And the sweet-sour pickles of peach and pear, With cinnamon in 'em, and all things rare! And the more we ate was the more to spare, Out to old Aunt Mary's! Ah!
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O'er folded blooms On swirls of musk, The beetle booms adown the glooms And bumps along the dusk.
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Tell you what I like the best - 'Long about knee-deep in June, 'Bout the time strawberries melts On the vine, - some afternoon Like to jes' git out and rest, And not work at nothin' else!
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