A Barefoot Boy by James Whitcomb Riley

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.

by James Whitcomb Riley

Other poems by 'James Whitcomb Riley'

Little Orphant Annie

When the Frost is on the Punkin

The Raggedy Man

The Bumblebee

Our Hired Girl


The Old Swimmin'-Hole

A Life-Lesson

Nine Little Goblins

Wet-weather Talk

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