Have you seen the golfers airy <br />Prancing forth to their vagary, <br />Just as frisky in their gaiters <br />As a flock of Grecian Satyrs, <br />Looking everything heroic, <br />And magnificently stoic, <br />In a dress of such a pattern <br />As would fright the good God Saturn? <br /> <br />Have you heard them curse the sparrow <br />Fit to freeze your inmost marrow, <br />When the ball, that should be flitting, <br />On the grass remaineth sitting? <br />Have you watched their cheerful scrambles <br />In the soft and soothing brambles <br />While the foe, elate and sneering, <br />Passes gradually from hearing? <br /> <br />After blaming all the witches, <br />After rending holes in breeches, <br />After getting in a muddle <br />With each rivulet and puddle, <br />They return, a ll labour ended, <br />To record their prowess splendid, <br />And renew by dictionary <br />Their fatigued vocabulary. <br /> <br />Let these gentlemen ecstatic, <br />In their costumes so emphatic, <br />Crawl to find a rounded treasure <br />In the horse-pond at their pleasure. <br />What so good when time is sunny, <br />And the air as sweet as honey, <br />At the game of crease and wicket, <br />England's proper pastime--Cricket?<br /><br />Norman Rowland Gale<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/golf-steals-our-youth/
