02-7-2008
The Barefoot Boy
By Renae
The past couple days we studied the poem The Barefoot Boy by John Greenleaf Whittier. My barefoot boy relates.
O! for boyhood’s painless play,
Sleep that wakes in laughing day,
Health that mocks the doctor’s rules,
Knowledge never learned of schools:
Of the wild bee’s morning chase,
Of the wild flower’s time and place,
Flight of fowl, and habitude
Of the tenants of the wood…For, eschewing books and tasks,
Nature answers all he asks;
Hand in hand with her he walks,
Face to face with her he talks
Part and parcel of her joy.
Blessings on thee, barefoot boy!
After carefully sketching Boys in a Pasture by Winslow Homer, he said,
Mom, I think I’m missing something in all the technology.
Now I’m not exactly sure what the “all” in his statement refers to since the extent of his technology is a computer game and the beginnings of a blog, but I suspect that even in his limited game time he senses the enticement. Immersion in a make-believe world cannot fill full the yearning of his heart for something more, something real. The longing is in my heart, too.
I feel it when I glance at the clouds, or see the stars. The universe is awesome. I hear it when the birds sing outside my window. Their gentle song reminds me to worship while I burrow in my bed. I see it when we stroll around the neighborhood. Thin blades of daffodils peek out of the ground giving hope for spring.
The small things beckon to be observed. The soothing beauty of creation pleads to be enjoyed. It is time to explore the wilderness. The woods in the park will suffice. We don’t need to go far, but we have to go.
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