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SONGS FOR BOYHOOD. |
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THE BAREFOOT BOY. John G. Whittiee.
Blessings on thee, little man, Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan! With thy turned-up pantaloons, And thy merry whistled tunes; With thy red lip, 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 Iu the reach of ear and eye� Outward sunshine, inward joy : Blessings on thee, barefoot boy!
Oh for boyhood's painless play, Sleep that wakes in laughing day, Health that mocks the doctor's rules, Knowledge never learned of schools; Of the wild bee's morning chase, Of the wild flower's time and place, Flight of fowl, and habitude Of the tenants of the wood ; How the tortoise bears his shell, How the woodchuck digs his cell, And the ground-mole sinks his well; How the robin feeds her young, How the oriole's nest is hung; |
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