The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1883-07-21
BENZ. F. JOHNSON, OF BOONE.

Mr., J. w. Riley's book, containing his
"Beni. F. Johnson" poems, is now in the
hands of the public and bids fair to have a
large sale. In the following brief preface the
author gives his reasons for attempting this
series of rhymes:
GAS far back into boyhood as the writer's
memory may intelligently CO. the county
poet is most pleasantly recalled. He was,
and is, as common as the country fiddler
and as full of good old-fashioned music. Not
master of melody, indeed, but poet, GER
tainly-
'Who, through long days OF labor
And nights devoid OF ease,
Still heard in his soul the music
OF wonderful melodies
"And it is simply the purpose of this series
of dialectic studies to reflect the real worth
of this homely child of nature, and to echo
faithfully, If possible, the faltering music Of
his song"
The chief beauty of these twelve, poems
lies in the purity of thought, the sincerity of
purpose, and the human spirit breathing
through them. There is no nobler tribute to
an honest farmer neighbor than that to
civilian Leachman," where the writer,
personating a man who had lost his wife,
says:
81 turned my eyes lords heaven, but the sun
was hid away;
turned my eyes lords earth again, but all was
GOLD and gray;
And the clock, like ice crackin'. clickt the 10y
And my eyes d never thawed out eff it hedn't
been for yon!
William Leachman, can see you lest as plain
as I could then;
And your hand is on my shoulder, and you rouse
me up again;
And | see the tears a-drippin' from your own
eyes. as you say:
BE reconciled and bear tive but llnger fer
dayP"
Or what is more true to nature than 1.-THE
Old Swimmin' Hole
"Whare the criok so still and deep
Looked like baby-river that was laying half
And the gurgle of the worter, round the drift
Jest below,
Sounded like the laugh of something we onct
Before we could remember anything but the
eyes
OF the angels lookin' out as we left Paradise.
Thare the bulirushes growed. and the cat-tails
And the sunshine and shadder tell over it all;
And it notified the worter with amber ana gold,
Till the glad lilies rocked in the rpples that
rolled:
And the snake-feeder's four gauzy wings fiut-
tered by,
Like the ghost of a daisy dropped out of the
sky,
Or wounded apple-blossom, in the preeze's
control.
AS it cut acrost some orchard tords the old SWIM
min hole"
What a breath of the woods as seen
through the eyes of a real fesh-and-blood
boy, as the author walks
"Through inedder lands
And country lanes. and swampy trails
WHARF long bullrushes bresh my hands;
And, tilted on the rtdored rails
Ofdeadenin' fences, "Old Bob White"
whistles his name in high delight,
And whirrs away, wunder still
Whichever way boys feet will
WHARF trees has fell, with tangled tops,
WHARF, dead leaves shakes, stop fer breath,
Hearn the acorn as it drops
H'istin' my chin up still as death,
And wachin' olost, with upturned eyes,
to hide hisself above the limb,
But let's his own tail tell on him.
81 wunder on in deeper gooms-
Git hungry, hearin' female cries
From old farm-hOusee, WHARF perfumes
OF harvest dinners seem to rise
And ta'nt Teller, hart and brane,
With memories he can't explain"
Perhaps the best known of this series of
Mr.. Riley's poems is the one entitled when
the Frost is on the Punkn," the refrain OF
which has made it widely popular. Its
opening stanza gives an idea of its fidelity to
nature:
"When the frost is on the punkin and the fod-
ders in the shock,
And you hear the kyonck and gObble of the
stluttin' turkey-cocB
And the clackin' of the guineys, and the oluck-
in OF the hens,
And tho ROSTERS hallylooyer as he tiptoes on
the fence;
o its then's the times Teller is feelin' at his
best,
With the risin' sun to greet him from night of
peaceful resta
AS he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out
to feed the stock,
When the frost is on the punkin' and the foG-
ders in the shock"
Mr. Riley's faculty for treating successful