 | The Poetical Works of Andrew Lang |  |
149
Once Again
To L.
I linger round the very spot
Where once we heeled the ball,
And wonder if you've quite forgot
Our sessions at the Hall;
How gallantly we missed the globe,
How gaily skelped the green,
And wore the regulation robe
And ran the Magazine.
Where once we heeled the ball,
And wonder if you've quite forgot
Our sessions at the Hall;
How gallantly we missed the globe,
How gaily skelped the green,
And wore the regulation robe
And ran the Magazine.
Forever yet my thoughts incline
To catches in the slips,
Which might have been, but were not, mine;
My frozen finger-tips
Let chances go like water through,
And batsmen ran for three,
And, if you were the bowler, you
Would pitch the stumps at me!
To catches in the slips,
Which might have been, but were not, mine;
My frozen finger-tips
Let chances go like water through,
And batsmen ran for three,
And, if you were the bowler, you
Would pitch the stumps at me!
| The Poetical Works of Andrew Lang | |