The Barefoot Time.

by Adelbert Farrington Caldwell.

PREFACE

Many of the selections of this little volume of child's verse have appeared from time to time in "The Youth's Companion", "Ladies'

World", "Farm and Home", "Outlook", "Sunday School Times", "Forward", and "The Independent"; and if, in bringing them together, occasionally here and there verses a trifle beyond "the barefoot time" have crept in, perhaps they were not unintentionally admitted for "children of a larger growth".

A. F. C.

THE BAREFOOT TIME

_Oh, the golden age of the barefoot time, While life was a fairy tale sung in rhyme, When phantoms grim of a future day Were hid in the mists of the far away; When we carved for ourselves from our June daydreams (Only yesterday now it seems), Statues of greatness, Jim and I, In the mystical realm of the By-and-By!

Off for a swim on an afternoon,-- The moments--why would they fly so soon!

At the gate stood mother, who never was strong: "I shall worry, boys, if you stay too long."_

_Gone are the days of the long ago,-- O lagging Time, now you move so slow!

The rosy skies of our barefoot days Lie hidden from view by a misty haze.

Jim he got tired and slipped away,-- Left me alone to swim and play; The statues of greatness--in vain we planned,-- Never appeared from the sculptor's hand!

And there came a day, I its reckoning keep, When mother, worn out, just dropped asleep,-- Her voice melting into an angel's song: "I shall wait at the Gate, so don't stay too long."_

THE OLD FOLKS IN THE COUNTRY

I'm a-goin' to leave the country,-- Old folks say 'tis nice and clean, Nothin' like its air and sunshine In the city's ever seen.

Only filth and smoke and odors, In the city, they allow,-- But the old folks in the country Don't know nothin', anyhow!

They say there they don't have sunset Pictures painted on the sky, There the birds don't do their courtin'

In the meadows on the sly; There's no hide-and-seek, they tell me, In the hay upon the mow,-- But the old folks in the country Don't know nothin', anyhow!

There they say the folks are worried, Till their minds they almost lose.

No one stops his horse to ask you, All a-smilin', "What's the news?"

There they don't have any neighbors, When they're sick, as we do now,-- But the old folks in the country Don't know nothin', anyhow!

They say there is so much sorrow, Crime and trouble, sin and shame; But as far as I can reckon, It's not the city that's to blame.

They say folks don't mind the Bible, That they're always in a row,-- But the old folks in the country Don't know nothin', anyhow!

Yes; I said I'd leave the country, But I'm back again, you see; Neighbors, birds, and flowers, and sunsets, They are good enough for me.

Hear that whip-poor-will at vespers?

There, he's almost over now.

Ah, the old folks in the country Do know somethin', anyhow!

WORK

Work, like a giant, blocked the path,-- I trembled in dismay, Till Method urged, "Attack in parts!"

Work's but a dwarf to-day.

QUEER LITTLE HISTORIANS

Just a raindrop loitering earthward, All alone, Leaves a tiny "telltale story"

In the stone.

Gravel tossed by teasing water, Down the hill, Shows where once in merry laughter Flowed a rill.

In the coal bed dark and hidden, Ferns (how queer!) Left a message plainly saying, "We've been here!"

You may see where tiny ripples, On the sands, Leave a history written by their Unseen hands.

Why, the oak trees, by their bending, Clearly show The direction playful winds blew Years ago!

So our _habits_ tell us, little Maids and men, What the history of our whole past Life has been!

THEN AND NOW

Said Aaron 1400, a mediaeval boy, "I'll tell you what I'd like so well to know: How far the moon is from us, the sun's diameter, And how one may predict the rain and snow!

I'd like to know the reason for the lightning in the sky, What makes the ocean tides to rise and fall, Why, when you let a body drop, it quickly falls to earth, And if the world we live on can really be a ball!

Oh, I'd go to school and study every minute in the day; For all such curious knowledge how I'd strive!

If I could only know these things"--he gave a troubled sigh,-- "I'd really be the happiest boy alive!"

But Willie 1900 said (a present-century lad), "I wish I'd lived five hundred years ago; This spending time in school-rooms--oh, I wouldn't have to do, For then these things they didn't have to know!

It's a nuisance reading history--they didn't have much then, And as for science--my! 'twas jolly fun, For there wasn't electricity or sound for boys to learn,--

The discoverers weren't born--or hardly one!

I'd like to live as boys did ten hundred years ago, 'Cause _they_ had nothing else to do but play!

If there wasn't anything to learn, or more than they had _then_, My! wouldn't I be happy _every day_!"