Back in the late 1800s/early 1900s, barefoot boys were the epitome of freedom, and it seems every poet (or would-be poet) ended up writing such a poem.
Here’s another one.
This poem appeared in the Mansfield News on September 18, 1915 (and is credited to the Baltimore Sun).
Barefoot boy in the far green land.
Bearing a fishing pole in your hand;
Barefoot boy in the old and still
End gate poll at the back of the mill;
Barefoot boy, with that careless swing,
Owner of Arcady, summer’s king.
Tyrannous monarch of valley and hill,
You we welcome and you we sing.
Thanking the Lord tat there’s boyhood still.
That smile oblivious to everything!
Barefoot boy—who are make the earth
A place of joy and a place of mirth;
A new domain for the vision of life,
Softening and sweetening the burden of strife.
Bringing the sunshine to hearts that ache.
Lifting the soul that are in the rife
Mad struggle and conflict with sin and truth;
Up to a service for all men’s sake
in the deathless combat life makes for truth.
When there’s so much more than the truth at stake!
Barefoot boy, in the sunbright lane,
You are creating us over again;
You, with your whistle, your freckled face.
Your wild abandon to native grace
Of movement and action and song and glee—
Child of the blossom and bird and tree.
King of the woodland, and friend of the stream.
God of the morning of vision to be.
Proving your power and keeping your place
For the sake of the song and the smile and the dream
And the hope of the spirit that set us free!