Extremes

Poem By James Whitcomb Riley

I

A little boy once played so loud
That the Thunder, up in a thunder-cloud,
Said, 'Since I can't be heard, why, then
I'll never, never thunder again!'


II

And a little girl once kept so still
That she heard a fly on the window-sill
Whisper and say to a lady-bird,--
'She's the stilliest child I ever heard!'

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When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock,
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I caught but a glimpse of him. Summer was here.
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I

A good man never dies--
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I have sipped, with drooping lashes,
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