so much in so many ways to
James Whitcomb Riley
appealing as she did to the Best
to the Highest in his Nature and who
was indeed a "Ministering Angel"
when "Pain and Anguish" wrung
his brow, racked his frail body
where lingered its Tenant
his Immortal Soul!

Tenderly, Lovingly, let the Fair Elaine cherish
the Shield Invincible of her Sir Launcelot!
Some Day--Some Glad Day--she too, will go upward
with the Flood, in the Dark Barge, decked with Flowers:
clasping in her Beautiful Hand of Gentle Service,
the Lily of Fidelity: floating with the Mystic
Tide, to meet again--at Towered Camelot--
--her Gallant, her Waiting Knight!
For Love shares with the Soul its Precious Immortality!

III.

The Plea

--To The Relatives To The Intimate Friends of James Whitcomb Riley--

Let Lockerbie Street, in its Lovely Brevity,
be held--if you will--as a Perpetual Reservation
for the Children of your Great, your Growing City,
holding the House, which for many years was the
Happy Home of the Poet, as a Sacred Shrine.
Let your fine Civic Building, now rising in its
Majesty--like the Towers of Illion--made possible
by his Generous Gift of the Site, made Glorious
by the touch of his hand, on its Great Cornerstone:
let it--if you will--proudly bear his Name.
Let either one, or both, of these Noble Things
be done, for the sake of his memory.
Let this, that, or any other form of a Memorial wait upon
the wisdom of your Choice: but no matter what is done;
how much is done; or how it is done; there is one Thing
which ought not to be left undone.
Every tender, slender needle, rising out of its
Globular Greenness, in this humble Spray of Kentucky Pine,
harbors this One Thought, this Single Plea!
This is the Plea:

Let James Whitcomb Riley,
skillfully cast in Bronze, simply clad in the plain
blue garb of a Union Soldier Lad a Private--
let him stand fur all Time, in your Circle, in the Centre,
in the Heart of your City, the beloved City of his adoption.
Let him stand there, under the shadow of that
Mighty Shaft, the Tribute of your Grand Commonwealth,
to her Valiant Sons--the Soldier, the Sailor.
Let him stand there, on a one-piece Pedestal
of Indiana Stone; Simple, Massive.
Thereon carve his Name, the date of his Birth;
the date of his Death; and these Immortal words:

"Well, Goodby, Jim:
Take Keer of