A barefoot boy! I mark him at his play --
    For May is here once more, and so is he, --
    His dusty trousers, rolled half to the knee,
And his bare ankles grimy, too, as they:
Cross-hatchings of the nettle, in array
    Of feverish stripes, hint vividly to me
    Of woody pathways winding endlessly
Along the creek, where even yesterday
He plunged his shrinking body -- gasped and shook --
    Yet called the water "warm," with never lack
Of joy. And so, half enviously I look
    Upon this graceless barefoot and his track, -- 
    His toe stubbed -- ay, his big toe-nail knocked back
Like unto the clasp of an old pocketbook.

Added: on February 28th, 2005 at 3:36 PM | Viewed: 3787 times | Comments (1)

Poet: James Whitcomb Riley
Poem: A Barefoot Boy
Volume: Complete Works
Year: Published/Written in 1883

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