Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan!
With thy turned-up pantaloons,
And the merry whistled tunes;
With thy red lips, redder still,
Kissed by strawberries on the hill;
Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace;
From my heart I give thee joy,
I was once a barefoot boy!
-John Greenleaf Whittier
a rhythm that allows you to access it only once a year.
- B. Welch