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James Whitcomb Riley - No Boy Knows
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There are many things that boys may know--
  Why this and that are thus and so,--
  Who made the world in the dark and lit
  The great sun up to lighten it:
  Boys know new things every day--
  When they study, or when they play,--
  When they idle, or sow and reap--
  But no boy knows when he goes to sleep.

  Boys who listen--or should, at least,--
  May know that the round old earth rolls East;--
  And know that the ice and the snow and the rain--
  Ever repeating their parts again--
  Are all just water the sunbeams first
  Sip from the earth in their endless thirst,
  And pour again till the low streams leap.--
  But no boy knows when he goes to sleep.

  A boy may know what a long glad while
  It has been to him since the dawn`s first smile,
  When forth he fared in the realm divine
  Of brook-laced woodland and spun-sunshine;--
  He may know each call of his truant mates,
  And the paths they went,--and the pasture-gates
  Of the `cross-lots home through the dusk so deep.--
  But no boy knows when he goes to sleep.

  O I have followed me, o`er and o`er,
  From the flagrant drowse on the parlor-floor,
  To the pleading voice of the mother when
  I even doubted I heard it then--
  To the sense of a kiss, and a moonlit room,
  And dewy odors of locust-bloom--
  A sweet white cot--and a cricket`s cheep.--
  But no boy knows when he goes to sleep.
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