 | Messrs Bat and Ball |  |
6
THE NETS
At last our Nets in early Spring
Salute the death of Winter.
The virgin ball is here to sting,
The wounded bat to splinter.
Now two-and-twenty yards of green
Perfection claim the leisure
Of those to whom this length of turf
Appears a royal measure.
So it is!
Salute the death of Winter.
The virgin ball is here to sting,
The wounded bat to splinter.
Now two-and-twenty yards of green
Perfection claim the leisure
Of those to whom this length of turf
Appears a royal measure.
So it is!
Delighted veterans, who have lived
For fifty grey Decembers,
Begin to coax a feel of youth
Along their stiffened members.
The weedless two-and-twenty yards,
With signs of heavy rolling,
Receive their praise as fine and fit
For batting and for bowling.
So they are!
For fifty grey Decembers,
Begin to coax a feel of youth
Along their stiffened members.
The weedless two-and-twenty yards,
With signs of heavy rolling,
Receive their praise as fine and fit
For batting and for bowling.
So they are!
Young England flushes in the field,
Alert, enthusiastic!
Responsive sinews stretch in him
As blithely as elastic.
His share of keen paternal blood,
As though a draught of toddy,
Is burning in the crowd of veins
That irrigate his body.
So it should!
Alert, enthusiastic!
Responsive sinews stretch in him
As blithely as elastic.
7
As though a draught of toddy,
Is burning in the crowd of veins
That irrigate his body.
So it should!
Beyond the nets a colony
Of lilac forms a shelter,
Where, hidden in a house of bloom,
A thrush sings helter-skelter.
While semi-breves of willow wood
Consort with silvery quavers
We dare to think that timber beats
A bird in granting favours.
So it does!
Of lilac forms a shelter,
Where, hidden in a house of bloom,
A thrush sings helter-skelter.
While semi-breves of willow wood
Consort with silvery quavers
We dare to think that timber beats
A bird in granting favours.
So it does!
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