Explore "An Old-Timer" by James Whitcomb Riley on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Here where the wayward stream / Is restful as a dream, / And where the banks o'erlook / A pool from out whose deeps / My pleased face upward peeps, / I cast my hook.
Silence and sunshine blent! - / A Sabbath-like content / Of wood and wave; -a free- / Hand landscape grandly wrought / Of Summer's brightest thought / And mastery. -
For here form, light and shade, / And color-all are laid / With skill so rarely fine, / The eye may even see / The ripple tremblingly / Lip at the line.
I mark the dragon-fly / Flit waveringly by / In ever-veering flight, / Till, in a hush profound, / I see him eddy round / The "cork," and-'light!
Ho! with the boy's faith then / Brimming my heart again, / And knowing, soon or late, / The "nibble" yet shall roll / Its thrills along the pole, / I-breathless-wait.