The Duluth rip-saw. [volume] (Duluth, Minn.) 1917-19??, 1918-07-13
POETS CORNER
THE BAREFOOT boy.

THE BAREFOOT BOY. 3
ID LESSINGS on thee, little man, -
ID Barefoot boy, with cheek Of tan!
With thy turned-up pantaloons.
And thy merry whistled tunes; -
With thy. red lips, redder still
Kissed by Strawberries on the hill;
With the sunshine on thy face,
Through thy torn brim's jaunty
grace;
From my heart I give thee JOY
I was once a barefoot boy!
Prince thou art.-the grown-up man
Only is republican.
Let the million-dollared ride!
Barefoot, trudging at his side,
Thou hast more than he can buy
In the reach of ear and eye
Outward sunshine, inward Joy;
Blessings on thee, barefoot boy!
o for boyhood's painless play,
Sleep that wakes in laughing day,
Health that mocks the doctors rules.
knowledge never learned Of schools,
OF the, wild bees morning chase,
OF the wild flowers time and place.
Flight OF fowl and habitude
OF the tenants of the wood;
How the tortoise bears his she'll,
How the woodchuok rigs his cell,
And the ground-mole sinks his we'll;
How the robin feeds her young,
How the orioles nest is hung;
Where the whitest lilies blow,
Where the freshest berries grow.
Where the groundnut trails its vine,
Where the wood-grape's clusters
shine;
OF the black, wasp's cunning way,
Mason Of his walls of clay,
And the architectural plans
OF gray hornet artisans
For, eschewing books and tasks,
Nature answers all he asks;
Hand in hand with her he walks,
Face to face with her he talks,
Part and parcel Of her Joy
Blessings on the barefoot boy!
o for boyhood's time Of June,
Crowding years in one brief moon,
When all things I heard or saw,
Me, their. master, waited for.
I was rich in flowers and trees,
Humming birds. and honey-bees;
For my sport the squirrel played,
Piled the shouted mole his spade;
For my taste the blackberry cone.
Purpled over hedge and stone;
Laughed. the brook for my delight
Through the day and through the
night, 8
Whispering at the garden wall,
Talked with me from fall to fall:
Mine the sand-rimmed pickerel pond,
Mine the, walnut slopes beyond,
Mine, on bending orchard trees,
Apples Of Hesperides!
Still as my horizon grew,
Larger grew my riches too;
All the world saw or knew
Seemed q complex Chinese toy,
Fashioned for a barefoot boy!
o for festal dainties spread,
Like my bowl of milk and bread
On the door-stone, gray and rude!
Ger me, like a regal tent,
Cloudy-ribbed, the sunset bent,
Purple-curtained, friuged with gold,
Looped In many. a wind-swung fold;
While for music came the play
OF the pied frogs orchestra:
And, to Night the noisy choir,
Lit the fly his lamp Of fire.
I was monarch; pomp and joy
Waited on the barefoot boy!
Cheerily, then, my little man,
Live and laugh, as boyhood can!
Though the flinty slopes be hard,
Stubble-speared the new-mown
sward,
Every morn shall lead thee through
Fresh baptisms Of the dew;
Every evening from thy feet
; Shall the cool wind kiss the heat:
All too soon these feet must hide
In the prison cells Of pride,
Lose the freedom of the sod,
Like q colts for work be shod,
Made to tread the mills of toll,
Up and down in ceaseIess moil;
Happy If their track be found
Never on forbidden ground;
Happy If they sink not in
Quick and treacherous sands Of sin.
All! that thou could know thy Joy,
Ere it passes, barefoot boy!
John Greenleaf Whittier.
vIyI1 N nm vnYY r0s