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 I R1LEY FAVORITES 
 
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 33 
 
 2 
 
 I A Song of Long Ago 
 
 II He and I 
 
 3 
 
 jl When My Dreams Come True 
 The Kose 
 Away 
 
 Her Beautiful Eyes 
 Do They Miss Me 
 
 ixx 
 
 \srnt
 
 R1LEY FAVORITES 
 
 JAMES WHITCOMB R1LEY 
 
 A SONG OF LONG AGO 
 
 HE AND I 
 
 WHEN MY DREAMS COME TRUE 
 THE KOSE 
 
 AWAY 
 
 HEK BEAUTIFUL EYES 
 DO THEY MISS ME 
 
 DECORATED BY 
 EMILY HALL CHAMBERLAIN 
 
 THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 V-saros. 
 
 Copyright. 1883, 1887, 1888, 1890, 1891, 1892, 1894, 
 1897, 1898, 1901, 1905, 1913 
 
 by 
 JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY 
 
 All rights reserved
 
 c 
 
 A SONG OF 
 LONG AGO 
 
 SONG of Long Ago: 
 Sing it lightly 
 
 sing it low 
 
 it softly like the lisping 
 of the lips we used to know 
 
 When our baby- laughter spilled 
 From the glad hearts ever filled 
 
 With 
 
 music 
 
 blithe 
 
 as 
 
 robin ever trilled 1
 
 Let the fragrant summer-breeze, 
 And the leaves of locust-trees, 
 
 And the apple- buds and 
 blossoms, and the 
 
 wings of honey-bees, 
 
 AH palpitate with glee, 
 Till the happy harmony 
 
 Brings back each childish 
 
 joy to you and me.
 
 Let the eyes of fancy turn 
 Where the tumbled pippins burn 
 
 Like embers in the orchard's lap 
 of tangled grass and fern, 
 
 There let the old path wind 
 In and out and on behind 
 
 The cider^press that 
 
 chuckles as we grind. 

 
 Blend in the song the moan 
 Of the dove that grieves alone, 
 
 And the wild whir of the locust, 
 and the bumble's 
 
 drowsy drone; 
 
 And the low of cows that call 
 
 Through the pasture- 
 bars when all 
 
 The landscape fades 
 
 away at evenfall. 
 
 18 r
 
 Then, far away and clear, 
 Through the dusky atmosphere, 
 
 Let the wailing of the kildee be 
 the only sound we hear : 
 
 O sad and sweet and low 
 As the memory may know 
 
 Is the glad-pathetic 
 
 song of Long Ago 1
 
 '. ',. - 
 
 HE AND 1 
 
 jf-UST drifting 
 
 on together 
 
 He and I 
 
 As through the balmy weather 
 
 Of July 
 Drift two thistle-tufts imbedded 
 
 Each in each by 
 
 zephyrs wedded 
 
 Touring upward, 
 
 giddy-headed. 
 
 For the skv. 

 
 And, veering up and onward, 
 
 Do we seem 
 
 Forever drifting dawnward 
 In a dream, 
 
 Where we meet song-birds 
 
 that know us, 
 
 And the winds 
 
 their kisses blow us, 
 
 While the years flow 
 
 far below us 
 
 Like a stream. 
 
 mmmmrn
 
 And we are happy very 
 
 He and I 
 
 Aye, even glad and merry 
 Though on high 
 
 The heavens are 
 
 sometimes shrouded 
 
 By the midnight storm, 
 
 and clouded 
 
 Till the pallid moon is crowded 
 From the sky. 
 

 
 My spirit ne'er expresses 
 Any choice 
 
 But to clothe him 
 
 with caresses 
 
 And rejoice; 
 And as he laughs, it is in 
 
 Such a tone the 
 
 moonbeams glisten 
 
 And the stars come out 
 
 to listen 
 
 To his voice.
 
 
 And so, whate'er the weather, 
 He and I, 
 
 With our lives linked 
 
 thus together, 
 
 Float and fly 
 As two thistle-tufts imbedded 
 
 Each in each by 
 
 zephyrs wedded 
 
 Touring upward giddy-headed,
 
 WHEN MY DREAMS 
 COME TRUE 
 
 HEN my dreams 
 come true when 
 my dreams come 
 
 true 
 
 Shall 1 lean from out my case" 
 ment, in the starlight 
 
 and the dew, 
 
 To listen smile and listen to 
 
 the tinkle of the strings
 
 Of the sweet guitar my lover's 
 fingers fondle, as he sings ? 
 
 And as the nude moon slowly, 
 slowly shoulders into view, 
 
 Shall I vanish from his vision 
 when my dreams come true? 
 
 When my dreams come true 
 shall the simple gown I wear 
 
 Be changed to softest satin, 
 
 and my maiden-braided hair
 
 Be raveled into flossy mists 
 
 of rarest, fairest gold. 
 
 To be minted into kisses, more 
 than any heart can hold ? 
 
 Or " the summer of my 
 
 tresses" shall my lover liken to 
 
 ' The fervor of his passion' 
 when my dreams come true ? 
 
 When my dreams come true 
 1 shall bide among the sheaves
 
 Of happy harvest meadows 
 
 The meanest sheaf of harvest 
 when my dreams come true.
 
 
 When my dreams come true I 
 when my dreams come true ! 
 
 True love in all simplicity is 
 
 fresh and pure as dew; 
 
 The blossom in the blackest 
 
 mold is kindlier to the eye 
 
 Than any lily born of pride 
 
 that looms against the sky : 
 
 And so it is I know my heart 
 
 will gladly welcome you, 
 
 My lowliest of lovers, 
 
 when my dreams come true.
 
 THE ROSE 
 
 T tossed its head at 
 the wooing breeze ; 
 
 And the sun, like 
 a bashful swain, 
 
 Beamed on it 
 
 through the waving trees 
 
 With a passion all in vain, 
 
 For my rose laughed 
 
 in a crimson glee, 
 
 And hid in the leaves 
 
 in wait for me.
 
 
 The honey-bee 
 
 came there to sing 
 
 His love through 
 
 the languid hours, 
 
 And vaunt of his hives, 
 
 as a proud old king 
 
 Might boast of his 
 
 palace-towers : 
 
 But my rose bowed 
 
 in a mockery, 
 
 And hid in the leaves 
 
 in wait for me.
 
 
 The humming-bird, 
 
 like a courtier gay, 
 
 Dipped down with 
 
 a dalliant song, 
 
 And twanged his wings 
 
 through the roundelay 
 
 Of love the whole day long : 
 
 Yet my rose turned 
 
 from his minstrelsy 
 
 And hid in the leaves 
 
 in wait for me. 

 
 The firefly came 
 
 in the twilight dim 
 
 My red, red rose to woo 
 
 Till quenched was the 
 
 flame of love in him 
 
 And the light of 
 
 his lantern too, 
 
 As my rose wept 
 
 with dewdrops three 
 
 And hid in the leaves 
 
 in wait for me. 
 
 f/> flf'f
 
 And [ said : I will cull 
 
 my own sweet rose 
 
 Some day 1 will claim as mine 
 
 The priceless worth of 
 
 the flower that knows 
 
 No change, but a 
 
 bloom divine 
 
 The bloom of a 
 
 fadeless constancy 
 
 That hides in the leaves 
 
 in wait for me !
 
 But time passed by 
 
 in a strange disguise, 
 
 And I marked it not, but lay 
 
 In a lazy dream, 
 
 with drowsy eyes, 
 
 Till the summer slipped away, 
 
 And a chill wind sang 
 
 in a minor key: 
 
 " Where is the rose 
 
 that waits for thee ? "
 
 
 .*.*... 
 
 I dream to-day, 
 
 o'er a purple stain 
 
 Of bloom on a withered stalk, 
 
 Pelted down by the autumn rain 
 
 In the dust of the garden- walk, 
 
 That an Angel-rose 
 
 in the world to be 
 
 Will hide in the leaves 
 
 in wait for me. 
 
 or 
 
 W'"4 --.
 
 
 AWAY 
 
 CANNOT say, and 
 I will not say 
 
 That he is dead. 
 He is just away! 
 
 With a cheery smile, 
 
 and a wave of the hand, 
 He has wandered into 
 
 an unknown land,
 
 And left us dreaming 
 
 how very fair 
 It needs must be, 
 
 since he lingers there. 
 
 And you O you, 
 
 who the wildest yearn 
 For the old-time step 
 
 and the glad return,
 
 Think of him faring on, 
 
 as dear 
 In the love of There 
 
 as the love of Here; 
 
 And loyal still, 
 
 as he gave the blows 
 Of his warrior-strength 
 
 to his country's foes. 
 
 o
 
 Mild and gentle, 
 
 as he was brave, 
 When the sweetest love 
 
 of his life he gave 
 
 To simple things: 
 
 Where the violets grew 
 Blue as the eyes 
 
 they were likened to, 
 
 G> 
 3 %
 
 The touches of his hands 
 
 have strayed 
 As reverently as his 
 
 lips have prayed: 
 
 When the little brown thrush 
 
 that harshly chirred 
 Was dear to him 
 
 as the mocking-bird :
 
 
 And he pitied as much 
 
 as a man in pain 
 A writhing honey-bee 
 
 wet with rain. 
 
 Think of him still as 
 
 the same, 1 say: 
 He is not dead 
 
 he is just awayf
 
 HER BEAUTIFUL 
 EYES 
 
 HER beautiful 
 eyes I they are blue 
 as the dew 
 
 On the violet's bloom 
 when the morning is new, 
 
 And the light of their iove 
 
 is the gleam of the sun 

 
 O'er the meadows of Spring 
 where the quick shadows run 
 
 As the morn shifts the mists 
 and the clouds from the skies 
 
 So I stand in the dawn 
 
 of her beautiful eyes.
 
 And her beautiful eyes 
 
 are as mid-day to me. 
 
 When the lify-bell bends 
 with the weight of the bee, 
 
 And the throat of the thrush 
 
 is a-pulse in the heat,
 
 And the senses are drugged 
 with the subtle and sweet 
 
 And delirious breaths of 
 
 the air's lullabies 
 
 So 1 swoon in the noon 
 
 of her beautiful eyes.
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 O her beautiful eyes! they 
 
 I 
 
 have smitten mine own 
 
 As a glory glanced down 
 from the glare of the Throne; 
 
 And 1 reel, and 1 falter 
 
 and fall, as afar
 
 ffipSrrHS& 
 T^^ ^5T 
 
 Fell the shepherds that 
 
 looked on the mystical Star, 
 
 And yet dazed in the tidings 
 that bade them arise 
 
 So 1 groped through the 
 
 night of her beautiful eyes.
 
 DO THEY MISS ME 
 
 T'S the curiousest 
 
 thing in creation, 
 
 Whenever 1 hear 
 
 that old song 
 
 " Do They Miss Me at Home," 
 
 I'm so bothered, 
 
 My life seems as 
 
 short as it's long ! 
 
 Per ev'rything 'pears like adzackly 
 
 It 'peared in the years 
 
 past and gone, 
 
 When 1 started out 
 
 sparkin', at twenty, 
 
 And had my first 
 
 neckercher on!
 
 Though I'm wrinkelder, 
 
 older and grayer 
 
 Right now than my 
 
 parents was then, 
 
 You strike up that song 
 
 "Do They Miss Me," 
 
 And I'm jest a 
 
 youngster again! 
 
 I'm a^standin' back thare 
 
 in the furries 
 
 A'wishin' fer evening to come, 
 And a-whisperin' over and over 
 
 Them words " Do They 
 
 Miss Me at Home?"
 
 You See, Marthy Ellen 
 
 she sung it 
 
 The first time I 
 
 heerd it ; and so, 
 
 As she was my very 
 
 first sweethart, 
 
 it reminds me of her, 
 
 don't you know; 
 
 How her face ust to look, 
 
 in the twilight, 
 
 As 1 tuck her to Spellin'; 
 
 and she 
 
 Kep' a-hummin' that song 
 
 tel 1 ast her, 
 
 Pine-blank, ef she ever 
 
 missed me! 
 
 1
 
 1 can shet my eyes now, 
 
 as you sing it, 
 
 And hear her low 
 
 answerin' words ; 
 
 And then the glad chirp 
 
 of the crickets, 
 
 As clear as the twitter of birds , 
 
 And the dust in the road 
 
 is like velvet, 
 
 And the ragweed and 
 
 fennel and grass 
 
 Is as sweet as the scent of the lilies 
 Of Eden of old, as we pass. 
 
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 ^>- A
 
 powdered 
 White bloonr 
 
 whipperwill
 
 But oh! " They's a chord 
 
 in the music 
 
 That's missed when her 
 
 voice is away!" 
 
 Though I listen from 
 
 midnight tel morning, 
 
 And dawn tel the dusk 
 
 of the day ! 
 
 And I grope through the 
 
 dark, lookin' up'ards 
 
 And on through the 
 
 heavenly dome, 
 
 With my longin' soul 
 
 singin' and sobbin' 
 
 The words " Do They 
 
 Miss Me at Home?" 
 
 . 
 
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 * =^S* 

 
 DATE DUE 
 
 GAYLORD 
 
 PRINTED IN U.S. A 
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 AA 001267577 3