Jasper County Democrat, Volume 7, Number 21, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 August 1904 — Mr. Riley’s Building Operations. [ARTICLE]

Mr. Riley’s Building Operations.

It was announced not long ago that James Whitcomb Riley was investing a part of his fortune in a large apartment house in Indianapolis. Naturally, we at once became possessed of the Idea which presented itself to every one else who read the paragraph concerning Mr, Riley’s flat. We, therefore took our pen in hand to dash off the following lines: RILEY’S FLAT. I tell you what, it’s pleasant when a book of Riley's comes, For to press the leaves back gently and to hold ’em with your thumbs And fergit about your troubles, as you read aud laugh and cry. And to sort of git to feelin’, as you set there, by and by, That the world is mighty pleasant, with its grassy fields and brooks, And its coolin’, fragrant breezes and wholesome Riley books Full of poems'bout the children—little ones we used to know When we ran around barefooted, in the dear old long ago. And they tell us now that Riley—heaven bless him every day— Is so rich he’s buildin’ houses—puttin up a fiat, they say— One of these here big fine buildin’s where you stand down at the door. Talking through a spout to people that live on the upper floor; 'Lectric lights and all the fassets made of solid silver, too: Het by steam and built exactly like a palace, through and through, With the steps in front, most likely, made of marble—think of that!— Say, Jim, how about the children? Will you bar them from your flat? Ain’t it good, on winter’s even'n'stogit down a Riley book And imagine that you’re settin on the grass beside a brook? You can read and while you do it almost hear the water flow,; And the sweet old-fashioned roses that yon picked long, long ago. Sort of waft their fragrance to you from the gardens where they grew, When you galloped out barefooted in the mornin’s through the dew. And the children—you can hear ’em callin' back across the years. Shoutin’ out your boyhood’s nickname, as you bresh away the tears. Though he’s rich, the world still owes him more than it can ever pav. For the good that he has done it and the gloom he's drove away. With his lovin’ songs of childhood he has made us kinder men. Made us often turn from trouble to be youDg ourselves again; He has come and took us gently by the hands and led us down Through the fields to old Aunt Mary’s, led us out awav from town To tbe streams that still are flowin’ past the places where we sat — Say, Jim. how abont the children? Can folks have ’em in your flat? Before placing it before the public we deemed it best to submit tbe poem" to Mr. Riley for his inspection and -approval, and he has favored us with the following kindly message: This is a good poem. It is a poem that appeals to me. There Is. however, one serious thing wrong with it. lam not building a flat. Do not understand me as desiring to hold poets down to facts. I believe there should be imagination in poetry, and as far aa imagination is permitted to exhibit itself in this poem it is all right. Still I consider it my duty to explain that I am not building a flat and never have built one. But perhaps this is a matter of no conaeqnenee, anyway, [Chicago Record-Herald.]