Children's Literature Part 111

There are marshmallows, gumdrops, and peppermint canes With stripings of scarlet or gold, And you carry away of the treasure that rains, As much as your ap.r.o.n can hold!

So come, little child, cuddle closer to me In your dainty white nightcap and gown, And I'll rock you away to that Sugar-Plum Tree In the garden of Shut-Eye Town.

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THE DUEL

EUGENE FIELD

The gingham dog and the calico cat Side by side on the table sat; 'Twas half past twelve, and (what do you think!) Nor one nor t'other had slept a wink!

The old Dutch clock and the Chinese plate Appeared to know as sure as fate There was going to be a terrible spat.

(_I wasn't there; I simply state What was told to me by the Chinese plate!_)

The gingham dog went "Bow-wow-wow!"

And the calico cat replied "Mee-ow!"

The air was littered, an hour or so, With bits of gingham and calico, While the old Dutch clock in the chimney place Up with its hands before its face, For it always dreaded a family row!

(_Now mind: I'm only telling you What the old Dutch clock declares is true!_)

The Chinese plate looked very blue, And wailed, "Oh, dear! what shall we do!"

But the gingham dog and the calico cat Wallowed this way and tumbled that, Employing every tooth and claw In the awfullest way you ever saw-- And, oh! how the gingham and calico flew!

(_Don't fancy I exaggerate-- I got my news from the Chinese plate!_)

Next morning, where the two had sat They found no trace of dog or cat: And some folks think unto this day That burglars stole that pair away!

But the truth about the cat and pup Is this: they ate each other up!

Now what do you really think of that!

(_The old Dutch clock it told me so, And that is how I came to know._)

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James Whitcomb Riley was born in Greenfield, Indiana, in 1849, and died at Indianapolis in 1916. His success was largely due to his ability to present homely phases of life in the Hoosier dialect. "The Raggedy Man" is a good ill.u.s.tration of this skill. In his prime Mr.

Riley was an excellent oral interpreter of his own work, and his personifications of the Hoosier types in his poems in recitals all over the country had much to do with giving him an understanding body of readers. He had much of the power in which Stevenson was so supreme--that power of remembering accurately and giving full expression to the points of view of childhood. The perennial fascination of the circus as in "The Circus Day Parade"

ill.u.s.trates this particularly well. "The Treasures of the Wise Man" represents another cla.s.s of Mr. Riley's poems in which he moralizes in a fas.h.i.+on that makes people willing to be preached at. It may be said very truly that most of his poems have their chief attraction in enabling older readers to recall the almost vanished thrilling delights of youth, but poems that do that are generally found to interest children also.

THE TREASURES OF THE WISE MAN[1]

JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY

O the night was dark and the night was late, And the robbers came to rob him; And they picked the locks of his palace gate, The robbers that came to rob him-- They picked the locks of his palace gate, Seized his jewels and gems of state, His coffers of gold and his priceless plate-- The robbers that came to rob him.

But loud laughed he in the morning red!-- For of what had the robbers robbed him?-- Ho! hidden safe, as he slept in bed, When the robbers came to rob him,-- They robbed him not of a golden shred Of the childish dreams in his wise old head-- "And they're welcome to all things else," he said, When the robbers came to rob him.

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THE CIRCUS-DAY PARADE[1]

JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY

Oh, the Circus-Day parade! How the bugles played and played!

And how the glossy horses tossed their flossy manes, and neighed, As the rattle and the rhyme of the tenor-drummer's time Filled all the hungry hearts of us with melody sublime!

How the grand band-wagon shone with a splendor all its own, And glittered with a glory that our dreams had never known!

And how the boys behind, high and low of every kind, Marched in unconscious capture, with a rapture undefined!

How the hors.e.m.e.n, two and two, with their plumes of white and blue, And crimson, gold and purple, nodding by at me and you, Waved the banners that they bore, as the Knights in days of yore, Till our glad eyes gleamed and glistened like the spangles that they wore!

How the graceless-graceful stride of the elephant was eyed, And the capers of the little horse that cantered at his side!

How the shambling camels, tame to the plaudits of their fame, With listless eyes came silent, masticating as they came.

How the cages jolted past, with each wagon battened fast, And the mystery within it only hinted of at last From the little grated square in the rear, and nosing there The snout of some strange animal that sniffed the outer air!

And, last of all, The Clown, making mirth for all the town, With his lips curved ever upward and his eyebrows ever down, And his chief attention paid to the little mule that played A tattoo on the dashboard with his heels, in the parade.

Oh! the Circus-Day parade! How the bugles played and played!

And how the glossy horses tossed their flossy manes and neighed, As the rattle and the rhyme of the tenor-drummer's time Filled all the hungry hearts of us with melody sublime!

FOOTNOTE:

[1] From the Biographical Edition of the _Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley_. Copyright 1913. Used by special permission of the publishers, The Bobbs-Merrill Co.

305

THE RAGGEDY MAN[2]

JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY

O The Raggedy Man! He works fer Pa; An' he's the goodest man ever you saw!

He comes to our house every day, An' waters the horses, an' feeds 'em hay; An' he opens the shed--an' we all ist laugh When he drives out our little old wobblely calf; An' nen--ef our hired girl says he can-- He milks the cow fer 'Lizabuth Ann.-- Aint he a' awful good Raggedy Man?

Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!

W'y, The Raggedy Man--he's ist so good He splits the kindlin' an' chops the wood; An' nen he spades in our garden, too, An' does most things 'at _boys_ can't do!-- He clumbed clean up in our big tree An' shooked a' apple down fer me-- An' nother'n', too, fer 'Lizabuth Ann-- An' nother'n', too, fer The Raggedy Man-- Aint he a' awful kind Raggedy Man?

Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!

An' The Raggedy Man, he knows most rhymes An' tells 'em, ef I be good, sometimes: Knows 'bout Giunts, an' Griffuns, an' Elves, An' the Squidgic.u.m-Squees 'at swallers therselves!

An', wite by the pump in our pasture-lot, He showed me the hole 'at the Wunks is got, 'At lives 'way deep in the ground, an' can Turn into me, er 'Lizabuth Ann!

Aint he a funny old Raggedy Man?

Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!