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.”