Who Bides His Time in  General   

Who bides his time, and day by day
Faces defeat full patiently,
And lifts a mirthful roundelay,
However poor his fortunes be,--
He will not fail in any qualm
Of poverty -- the paltry dime
It will grow golden in his palm,
Who bides his time.

Who bides his time -- he tastes the sweet
Of honey in the saltest tear;
And though he fares with slowest feet,
Joy runs to meet him, drawing near;
The birds are hearalds of his cause;
And, like a never-ending rhyme,
The roadsides bloom in his applause,
Who bides his time.

Who bides his time, and fevers not
In the hot race that none achieves,
Shall wear cool-wreathen laurel, wrought
With crimson berries in the leaves;
And he shall reign a goodly king,
And sway his hand o'er every clime
With peace writ on his signet-ring,
Who bides his time.

By James Whitcomb Riley

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Other poems by James Whitcomb Riley:

• A Barefoot Boy
• A Life-Lesson
• A Noon Interval
• A Parting Guest
• A Passing Hail
• A Song of the Road
• A Summer Afternoon
• Almost Beyond Endurance
• At Broad Ripple
• Granny
• Knee-Deep in June
• Liberty
• Nine Little Goblins
• Orlie Wilde
• Our Hired Girl
• The Bumblebee
• The Harper
• The Merman
• The Old Guitar
• The Old Times Were the Best
• The Raggedy Man
• The Rapture of the Year
• The Ripest Peach
• The Rival
• The Song of Yesterday
• The Willow
• There Was a Cherry-Tree
• To a Boy Whistling
• Unless
• We to Sigh Instead of Sing
• Wet-weather Talk
• When the Frost is on the Punkin
• Who Bides His Time
• Ylladmar