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James Whitcomb Riley - Our Boyhood Haunts
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Ho! I`m going back to where
We were youngsters.--Meet me there,
Dear old barefoot chum, and we
Will be as we used to be,--
Lawless rangers up and down
The old creek beyond the town--
Little sunburnt gods at play,
Just as in that far-away:--
Water nymphs, all unafraid,
Shall smile at us from the brink
Of the old millrace and wade
Tow`rd us as we kneeling drink
At the spring our boyhood knew,
Pure and clear as morning-dew:

And, as we are rising there,
Doubly dow`rd to hear and see,
We shall thus be made aware
Of an eerie piping, heard
High above the happy bird
In the hazel: And then we,
Just across the creek, shall see
(Hah! the goaty rascal!) Pan
Hoof it o`er the sloping green,
Mad with his own melody,
Aye, and (bless the beasty man!)
Stamping from the grassy soil
Bruised scents of _fleur-de-lis_,
Boneset, mint and pennyroyal.
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