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Riley, James Whitcomb, 1849-1916

"The Book of Joyous Children"


But when it's summer an' all warm ag'in,
He comes a-whistlin' an' a-drivin in
Our alley, 'thout no coat on, ner ain't cold,
Ner his mustache ain't white, ner he ain't old.
[Illustration]
* * * * *
[Illustration: "OUR 'OLD-KRISS'-MILKMAN."]
* * * * *


A PARENT REPRIMANDED

Sometimes I think 'at Parents does
Things ist about as bad as _us_--
[Illustration]
Wite 'fore our vurry eyes, at that!
Fer one time Pa he scold' my Ma
'Cause he can't find his hat;
An' she ist _cried_, she did! An' I
Says, "Ef you scold my Ma
Ever again an' make her cry,
Wy, you sha'n't _be_ my Pa!"
An' nen he laugh' an' find his hat
Ist wite where Ma she said it's at!
* * * * *
[Illustration: "THE CHILDISH DREAMS IN HIS WISE OLD HEAD."]
* * * * *


THE TREASURE OF THE WISE MAN

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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