The cheery optimism, tolerance, and mercy that are the burden of his
verse summed up his religion. He told me once that he was a Methodist;
at least, he had become a member of that body in his youth, and he
was not aware, as he put it, that they had ever “fired” him. For a
time he was deeply interested in Spiritualism and attended séances;
but I imagine that he derived no consolation from these sources, as
he never mentioned the subject in later years. Though he never probed
far into such matters, speculations as to immortality always appealed
to him, and he often reiterated his confidence that we shall meet and
recognize, somewhere in the beyond, those who are dear to us on earth.
His sympathy for bereaved friends was marked by the tenderest feeling.
“It’s all right,” he would say bravely, and he did believe, sincerely,
in a benign Providence that makes things “right.”
Here was a life singularly blessed in all its circumstances and in the
abundant realization of its hopes and aims. Few poets of any period
have received so generous an expression of public regard and affection
as fell to Riley’s lot. The very simplicity of his message and the
melodious forms in which it was delivered won him the wide hearing that
he enjoyed and that seems likely to be his continuing reward far into
the future. Yale wrote him upon her rolls as a Master of Arts, the
University of Pennsylvania made him a Doctor of Letters. The American
Academy of Arts and Letters bestowed upon him its gold medal in the
department of poetry; his last birthdays were observed in many parts of
the country. Honor, love, obedience, troops of friends were his happy
portion, and he left the world richer for the faith and hope and honest
mirth that he brought to it.