Here you will find the Poem Our Boyhood Haunts of poet James Whitcomb Riley
Ho! I'm going back to where We were youngsters.--Meet me there, Dear old barefoot chum, and we Will be as we used to be,-- Lawless rangers up and down The old creek beyond the town-- Little sunburnt gods at play, Just as in that far-away:-- Water nymphs, all unafraid, Shall smile at us from the brink Of the old millrace and wade Tow'rd us as we kneeling drink At the spring our boyhood knew, Pure and clear as morning-dew: And, as we are rising there, Doubly dow'rd to hear and see, We shall thus be made aware Of an eerie piping, heard High above the happy bird In the hazel: And then we, Just across the creek, shall see (Hah! the goaty rascal!) Pan Hoof it o'er the sloping green, Mad with his own melody, Aye, and (bless the beasty man!) Stamping from the grassy soil Bruised scents of _fleur-de-lis_, Boneset, mint and pennyroyal.
