________________________________________________
Title: James Whitcomb Riley
Author: Edgar A. Guest [
More Titles by Guest]
Written July 22, 1916, when the
world lost its "Poet of Childhood."
There must be great rejoicin' on the Golden
Shore to-day,
An' the big an' little angels must be feelin'
mighty gay:
Could we look beyond the curtain now I fancy
we should see
Old Aunt Mary waitin', smilin', for the coming
that's to be,
An' Little Orphant Annie an' the whole excited
pack
Dancin' up an' down an' shoutin': "Mr. Riley's
comin' back!"
There's a heap o' real sadness in this good old
world to-day;
There are lumpy throats this morning now that
Riley's gone away;
There's a voice now stilled forever that in
sweetness only spoke
An' whispered words of courage with a faith that
never broke.
There is much of joy and laughter that we
mortals here will lack,
But the angels must be happy now that Riley's
comin' back.
The world was gettin' dreary, there was too
much sigh an' frown
In this vale o' mortal strivin', so God sent Jim
Riley down,
An' He said: "Go there an' cheer 'em in your
good old-fashioned way,
With your songs of tender sweetness, but don't
make your plans to stay,
Coz you're needed up in Heaven. I am lendin'
you to men
Just to help 'em with your music, but I'll want
you back again."
An' Riley came, an' mortals heard the music of
his voice
An' they caught his songs o' beauty an' they
started to rejoice;
An' they leaned on him in sorrow, an' they
shared with him their joys,
An' they walked with him the pathways that
they knew when they were boys.
But the heavenly angels missed him, missed his
tender, gentle knack
Of makin' people happy, an' they wanted Riley
back.
There must be great rejoicin' on the streets of
Heaven to-day
An' all the angel children must be troopin'
down the way,
Singin' heavenly songs of welcome an' preparin'
now to greet
The soul that God had tinctured with an
ever-lasting sweet;
The world is robed in sadness an' is draped in
sombre black;
But joy must reign in Heaven now that Riley's
comin' back.
[The end]
Edgar A. Guest's poem: James Whitcomb Riley
________________________________________________
GO TO TOP OF SCREEN
