A Noted Traveler by James Whitcomb Riley — Read

Even in such a scene of senseless play / The children were surprised one summer-day / By a strange man who called across the fence, / Inquiring for their father's residence; / And, being answered that this was the place, / Opened the gate, and with a radiant face, / Came in and sat down with them in the shade / And waited -- till the absent father made / His noon appearance, with a warmth and zest / That told he had no ordinary guest / In this man whose low-spoken name he knew / At once, demurring as the stranger drew / A stuffy notebook out and turned and set / A big fat finger on a page and let / The writing thereon testify instead / Of further speech. And as the father read / All silently, the curious children took / Exacting inventory both of book / And man: -- He wore a long-napped white fur-hat / Pulled firmly on his head, and under that / Rather long silvery hair, or iron-gray -- / For he was not an old man, -- anyway, / Not beyond sixty. And he wore a pair / Of square-framed spectacles -- or rather there / Were two more than a pair, -- the extra two / Flared at the corners, at the eyes' side-view, / In as redundant vision as the eyes / Of grasshoppers or bees or dragonflies.

Later the children heard the father say / He was "A Noted Traveler," and would stay / Some days with them -- In which time host and guest / Discussed, alone, in deepest interest, / Some vague, mysterious matter that defied / The wistful children, loitering outside / The spare-room door. There Bud acquired a quite / New list of big words -- such as "Disunite,"