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.
Gladys Taber
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