Blessings on thee, little man,
Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan!
With thy turned-up pantaloons,
And thy merry whistled tunes;
With thy red lip, redder still
Kissed by strawberries on the hill;
John Greenleaf Whittier
Wild strawberries are ripening in the meadow,
and it's time to pick them (be sure to line your
basket with leaves) and carry them home to tea.