Image from D&E Grey Wolf Photography on flickr
WHEN THE FROST IS ON THE PUNKIN.
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock,
And you hear the kyonck and the gobble of the struttin’ turkey cock,
And the clackin’; of the guineys and the cluckin’ of the hens,
And the rooster’s hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence;
O it’s then’s the time a feller is a feelin’ at his best,
With the risin’ sun to greet him from a night of graceous rest,
As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock
They’s somepin kind o’ hearty-like about the atmosphere
When the heat of summer’s over and the coolin’ fall is here —
Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossoms on the trees,
And the mumble of the hummin’ birds and buzzin’ of the bees;
But the air’s so appetizin’, and the landscape through the haze
Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days
Is a picture that no painter has the colorin’ to mock —
When the frost is on the punkin and fodder’s in the shock.
The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn,
And the raspin’ of the tangled leaves, as golden as the morn;
The stubble in the furries — kind o’ lonesome-like, but still
A-preachin’ sermons to us of the barns they growed to fill;
The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed;
The hosses in theyr stalls below — the clover overhead! —
O, it sets my hart a-clickin’ like the tickin’ of a clock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock!
— Benjamin F. Johnson
The Atlanta Constitution (Atlanta, Georgia) Aug 12, 1882
Image from JamesWhitcombRiley.com
About the poem and its author, also from the James Whitcomb Riley website:
HOW RILEY’S POEM “WHEN THE FROST IS ON THE PUNKIN'” ONCE SAVED HIM HIS JOB
There is an interesting incident about how Riley’s job was once saved because he had written “When the Frost Is On the Punkin, and the Fodder’s In the Shock.” It is in a book written by Riley’s friend John A. Howland entitled, “James Whitcomb Riley: Prose and Pictures.”
Riley, as a young Greenfield man, had had a hard time finding a niche in the world since he did not care to follow his father in the practice of law. He sold Bibles, painted signs, entertained in a medicine show, always coming to a dead end. His mother died in 1870 and he felt he could not bear to stay in Greenfield so he went here and there seeking newspaper employment. He ran into E.B. Martindale of “The Indianapolis Journal” whom he later called, “my first literary patron,” who added him to the staff of the paper to write poetry. Some of these poems appeared on the first page of the Journal under the nom de plume “Benjamin F. Johnson of Boone,” supposedly an old farmer. As they were well received, Riley emerged from under his disguise, writing poems such as “When the Frost is on the Punkin.”
In a short while after Riley joined the paper, a gentleman named Halford was appointed manager of the Journal. One of his first ideas was to cut down on expenses of the paper, and he was considering Riley as his first victim to get the ax. It so happened that a political convention was held in Indianapolis at this very time. One of the candidates nominated for office was a big burly fellow who had never made a speech in his life
When he got up to accept his nomination, his mind went blank and he could not utter a word. The pounding and cheering went on until in desperation he blurted out, “The ticket you have nominated here is going to win “when the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock.” This Riley poem had just been published a few days before. in the newspaper.
The applause that greeted these words showed that most of these prominent men had read Riley’s work and approved of it. Halford kept him on, and he became an established poet.
Riley saved his job by a landscape!