Explore "A Summer's Day" by James Whitcomb Riley on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The Summer's put the idy in / My head that I'm a boy again; / And all around's so bright and gay / I want to put my team away, / And jest git out whare I can lay / And soak my hide full of the day! / But work is work, and must be done -- / Yit, as I work, I have my fun, / Jest fancyin' these furries here / Is childhood's paths onc't more so dear: -- / And as I walk through medder-lands, / And country lanes, and swampy trails / Whare long bullrushes bresh my hands; / And, tilted on the ridered rails / Of deadnin' fences, "Old Bob White" / Whissels his name in high delight, / And whirrs away. I wunder still, / Whichever way a boy's feet will -- / Whare trees has fell, with tangled tops / Whare dead leaves shakes, I stop fer breth, / Heerin' the acorn as it drops -- / H'istin' my chin up still as deth, / And watchin' clos't, with upturned eyes, / The tree where Mr. Squirrel tries / To hide hisse'f above the limb, / But lets his own tale tell on him.
I wunder on in deeper glooms -- / Git hungry, hearin' female cries / From old farm-houses, whare perfumes / Of harvest dinners seems to rise / And ta'nt a feller, hart and brane, / With memories he can't explane.