First Lines of James Whitcomb Riley
A Song of Long Ago:All listlessly we floatAs one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone,But yesterday! . . . .Has she forgotten? On this very MayI am tired of this!I so loved once, when Death came by I hidI'm bin a-visitun 'bout a weekIn youth he wrought, with eyes ablur,It tossed its head at the wooing breeze;It's the curiousest thing in creation,Last night -- how deep the darkness was!My Mary, O my Mary!O hear her sing -- to hear her singThe beauty of her hair bewilders me --The touches of her hands are like the fallWhen age comes on! --When chirping crickets fainter cry,When Lide married him -- w'y, she had to jes dee-fyWilful we are in our infirmity