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When The Green Gits Back In The Trees
James Whitcomb Riley


In Spring, when the green gits back in the trees,
And the sun comes out and STAYS,

And yer boots pulls on with a good tight squeeze,
And you think of yer bare-foot days;
When you ORT to work and you want to NOT,
And you and yer wife agrees
It's time to spade up the garden-lot,
When the green gits back in the trees
      Well! work is the least o' MY idees
      When the green, you know, gits back in the trees!

When the green gits back in the trees, and bees
Is a-buzzin' aroun' ag'in
In that kind of a lazy go-as-you-please
Old gait they bum roun' in;
When the groun's all bald whare the hay-rick stood,
And the crick's riz, and the breeze
Coaxes the bloom in the old dogwood,
And the green gits back in the trees, —
      I like, as I say, in sich scenes as these,
      The time when the green gits back in the trees!

When the whole tail-feathers o' Wintertime
Is all pulled out and gone!
And the sap it thaws and begins to climb,
And the swet it starts out on
A feller's forred, a-gittin' down
At the old spring on his knees—
When the green gits back in the trees —
      Jest a-potterin' roun' as I-durn-please—
      When the green, you know, gits back in the trees!

This poem is in the public domain.






James Whitcomb Riley (1849 - 1916) was an American poet best known for his children's poems and dialect-based verses. James was born in Greenfield, Indiana, and later moved to Indianapolis; homes in both cities are preserved and open to the public today. James was hugely popular during his lifetime. A bestselling author who traveled the country speaking to sell-out crowds, he never married or had children of his own, but he loved children and they loved him back. When he died, more than 35,000 people came to pay their respects as James lay in state under the Indiana capitol dome.  


Post New Comment:
Wilda Morris:
One of my favorite poets from childhood, but I didn't remember this one. Thanks!
Posted 03/03/2013 05:45 PM
He sounds like my Grandpa!
Posted 03/03/2013 02:16 PM
From one who lavishes in nature and awaits the cycles. A pleasure to relax in this poem and wait.
Posted 03/03/2013 01:15 PM
Yes, Norman Rockwell. Riley was a favorite of my father's. Intricate detail and honeyed nostalgia.
Posted 03/03/2013 10:18 AM
I love it! Thanks.
Posted 03/03/2013 10:10 AM
A Norman Rockwell kind of poem. I just wish the green would hurry and git back in the trees. Been too long!
Posted 03/03/2013 08:09 AM

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