Twice a week the winter thorough <br />Here stood I to keep the goal: <br />Football then was fighting sorrow <br />For the young man's soul. <br /> <br />Now in Maytime to the wicket <br />Out I march with bat and pad: <br />See the son of grief at cricket <br />Trying to be glad. <br /> <br />Try I will; no harm in trying: <br />Wonder 'tis how little mirth <br />Keeps the bones of man from lying <br />On the bed of earth.<br /><br />Alfred Edward Housman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/twice-a-week-the-winter-thorough/
