How straight it flew, how long it flew, <br />It clear'd the rutty track <br />And soaring, disappeared from view <br />Beyond the bunker's back - <br />A glorious, sailing, bounding drive <br />That made me glad I was alive. <br /> <br />And down the fairway, far along <br />It glowed a lonely white; <br />I played an iron sure and strong <br />And clipp'd it out of sight, <br />And spite of grassy banks between <br />I knew I'd find it on the green. <br /> <br />And so I did. It lay content <br />Two paces from the pin; <br />A steady putt and then it went <br />Oh, most surely in. <br />The very turf rejoiced to see <br />That quite unprecedented three. <br /> <br />Ah! Seaweed smells from sandy caves <br />And thyme and mist in whiffs, <br />In-coming tide, Atlantic waves <br />Slapping the sunny cliffs, <br />Lark song and sea sounds in the air <br />And splendour, splendour everywhere.<br /><br />John Betjeman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/seaside-golf/
