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.

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.

James Whitcomb Riley
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The anger of a person who is strong, can always bide its time.

James Whitcomb Riley
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When you awaken some morning and hear that somebody or other has been discovered, you can put it down as a fact that he discovered himself years ago - since that time he has been toiling, working, and striving to make himself worthy of general discovery.

James Whitcomb Riley
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When I see a bird that walks like a duck and swims like a duck and quacks like a duck, I call that bird a duck.

James Whitcomb Riley
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Who bides his time tastes the sweet Of honey in the saltiest tear And though he fares with slowest feet Joy runs to meet him drawing near.

James Whitcomb Riley
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And he shall reign a goodly king And sway his hand o'er every clime With peace writ on his signet ring Who bides his time.

James Whitcomb Riley
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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.

James Whitcomb Riley
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It is no use to grumble and complain It's just as cheap and easy to rejoice When God sorts out the weather and sends rain-Why rain's my choice.

James Whitcomb Riley
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A Parting GuestWhat delightful hosts are they—Life and Love!Lingeringly I turn away,This late hour, yet glad enoughThey have not withheld from meTheir high hospitality.So, with face lit with delightAnd all gratitude, I stayYet to press their hands and say,Thanks.—So fine a time! Good night.

James Whitcomb Riley
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He Is Not DeadI cannot say, and I will not sayThat he is dead. He is just away.With a cheery smile, and a wave of the hand,He has wandered into an unknown landAnd left us dreaming how very fairIt needs must be, since he lingers there.And you—oh you, who the wildest yearnFor an old-time step, and the glad return,Think of him faring on, as dearIn the love of There as the love of Here.Think of him still as the same. I say,He is not dead—he is just away.

James Whitcomb Riley
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