Produced by Greg Bergquist, Matthew Wheaton and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
Boston: Richard G. Badger The Gorham Press 1903
Copyright 1903 by Adelbert F. Caldwell All Rights Reserved
Whose sharing my pleasures then, makes cherished the memories of childhood now.
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”.
THE BAREFOOT TIME THE OLD FOLKS IN THE COUNTRY WORK QUEER LITTLE HISTORIANS THEN AND NOW BOB’S QUANDARY THE FIVE SPINNERS THE TENEMENT BABIES THE FISHING SEER JUST A-WISHING A PRISON HOUSE THE LITTLE HAIR TRUNK MR. FROG’S WISDOM STRANGE PEOPLE BOBBY DREAMED HARD THINGS HOW THE CAMEL GOT HIS HUMP A SUMMER TASK CHARACTER THE ATTIC RUBBISH A WEED REGRET HIS CHANGE OF NAME WITH OUTSTRETCHED CUP THE CONQUEROR FATHER’S ADVICE ONE GUIDE LITTLE POLLY MARY TEDDY’S QUERY THE SEVEN SLEEPERS BRIDGES WE NEVER CROSS A POOR TOWN TO LIVE IN WITH THOSE WHO CAN’T KEEP UP HEROES IN SLEIGHING TIME PROTECTED GRANDMOTHER’S STITCHES FOUR TO ONE THE NEW GLASSES THE TWO WAYS A WISE WAITING THE VISITANT WORK AND WORRY THE PRIZE WINNER TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW THE CRIPPLED HERO MR. BUSHEL’S HOSPITALITY THE WISH-MAN A LITTLE MATHEMATICIAN THE CASTLE OF MY DREAMS THE PASTURE BARS
_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.”_