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James Whitcomb Riley - A Barefoot Boy
Work rating: Low

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.
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