A barefoot boy on dewy sands of summer morning; I remember him at his play
July was at the peak of its reign; what a joy! in an exuberant moment was he
His shirt light to the breeze; his dusty trousers, rolled half to the knee,
And his bare ankles grimy, too, as they
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Nero, You have captured the beautiful portrait of innocence with your poem. I truly enjoy it. What a fresh air!