Sports poems
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The Four Wishes
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Father! a youthful hero said, bending his lofty brow
On the world wide I must go forththen bless me, bless me, now!
And, ere I shall return oh say, what goal must I have won
What is the aim, the prize, that most thou wishest for thy son?
The Subterranean River, At Cong.
© Richard Monckton Milnes
A pleasant mean of joy and wonder fills
The trave'ller's mind, beside this secret stream,
That flows from lake to lake beneath the hills,
And penetrates their slumber like a dream.
Trivia ; or, the Art of Walking the Streets of London : Book II.
© John Gay
Of Walking the Streets by Day.
Thus far the Muse has trac'd in useful lays
Shooting Season
© Robinson Jeffers
IN THE NORTH OF SCOTLAND
The whole countryside deployed on the hills of heather, an army
The Dunciad: Book II.
© Alexander Pope
Not with more glee, by hands Pontific crown'd,
With scarlet hats wide-waving circled round,
Rome in her Capitol saw Querno sit,
Throned on seven hills, the Antichrist of wit.
The Island Hunting-Song
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
No more the summer floweret charms,
The leaves will soon be sere,
Magical Mystery Tour
© Charles Bukowski
as we drive up a steep road
the blonde squeezes my leg
and nestles closer
while raven hair
leans across and nibbles my
ear.
Haymakers, Rakers, Reapers, And Mowers
© Thomas Dekker
Haymakers, rakers, reapers, and mowers,
Wait upon your summer queen.
To an Old Oak
© Samuel Rogers
Trunk of a Giant now no more!
Once did thy limbs to heaven aspire;
Once, by a track untried before,
Strike as resolving to explore
Realms of infernal fire.
A New Years' Gift sent to Sir Simeon Steward
© Robert Herrick
No news of navies burnt at seas;
No noise of late spawn'd tittyries;
Tale XV
© George Crabbe
transgress'd,
And while the anger kindled in his breast,
The pain must be endured that could not be
The Sleepers
© Walt Whitman
I WANDER all night in my vision,
Stepping with light feet, swiftly and noiselessly stepping and
stopping,
Bending with open eyes over the shut eyes of sleepers,
Wandering and confused, lost to myself, ill-assorted, contradictory,
Pausing, gazing, bending, and stopping.
To Charles Cowden Clarke
© John Keats
Oft have you seen a swan superbly frowning,
And with proud breast his own white shadow crowning;
He slants his neck beneath the waters bright
So silently, it seems a beam of light
A Vanished Joy
© Edgar Albert Guest
When I was but a little lad of six and seven and eight,
One joy I knew that has been lost in customs up-to-date,
Then Saturday was baking day and Mother used to make,
The while I stood about and watched, the Sunday pies and cake;
And I was there to have fulfilled a small boy's fondest wish,
The glorious privilege of youth--to scrape the frosting dish!
Written A Year After The Events
© Charles Lamb
Alas! how am I chang'd! Where be the tears,
The sobs, and forc'd suspensions of the breath,
History of the Twentieth Century (A Roadshow)
© Joseph Brodsky
Ladies and gentlemen and the day!
All ye made of sweet human clay!
Let me tell you: you are o'kay.
On May
© James Thomson
Among the changing months, May stands confest
The sweetest, and in fairest colours dressed!
Cat-pie.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
WHILE he is mark'd by vision clearWho fathoms Nature's treasures,
The man may follow, void of fear,Who her proportions measures.Though for one mortal, it is true,These trades may both be fitted,
Yet, that the things themselves are twoMust always be admitted.Once on a time there lived a cookWhose skill was past disputing,
Who in his head a fancy tookTo try his luck at shooting.So, gun in hand, he sought a spotWhere stores of game were breeding,
