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Our Little Girl

By James Whitcomb Riley

Topics: classic

Her heart knew naught of sorrow,         Nor the vaguest taint of sin -     'Twas an ever-blooming blossom         Of the purity within:     And her hands knew only touches         Of the mother's gentle care,     And the kisses and caresses         Through the interludes of prayer.     Her baby-feet had journeyed         Such a little distance here,     They could have found no briers         In the path to interfere;     The little cross she carried         Could not weary her, we know,     For it lay as lightly on her         As a shadow on the snow.     And yet the way before us -         O how empty now and drear! -     How ev'n the dews of roses         Seem as dripping tears for her!     And the song-birds all seem crying,         As the winds cry and the rain,     All sobbingly, - "We want - we want         Our little girl again!"

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"Her heart knew naught of sorrow,..."

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Author:James Whitcomb Riley

"Her heart knew naught of sorrow,..." by James Whitcomb Riley

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"The Text is taken from Percy's Reliques (1765), vol. i. p. 71, 'given from two MS. copies, transmitted from Scotland.' Herd had a very similar bal"

James Whitcomb Riley

About James Whitcomb Riley

James Whitcomb Riley (1849–1916) was an American poet known as the "Hoosier Poet." His dialect poems—including "Little Orphant Annie" and "When the Frost Is on the Punkin"—celebrate rural Indiana life and childhood nostalgia.

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"Writ in between the lines of his life-deed        ..."

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