<h2>THE GOLFER'S RUBAIYAT</h2>
<h3>BY H.W. BOYNTON</h3>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Wake! for the sun has driven in equal flight<br/></span>
<span class="i0">The stars before him from the Tee of Night,<br/></span>
<span class="i2">And holed them every one without a miss,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Swinging at ease his gold-shod Shaft of Light.<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Now the fresh Year, reviving old Desires,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires,<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Pores on this Club and That with anxious eye,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">And dreams of Rounds beyond the Rounds of Liars.<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Come, choose your ball, and in the Fire of Spring<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Your Red Coat, and your wooden Putter fling;<br/></span>
<span class="i2">The Club of Time has but a little while<br/></span>
<span class="i0">To waggle, and the Club is on the swing.<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Whether at Musselburgh or Shinnecock,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">In motley Hose or humbler motley Sock,<br/></span>
<span class="i2">The Cup of Life is ebbing Drop by Drop,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Whether the Cup be filled with Scotch or Bock.<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A Bag of Clubs, a Silver-Town or two,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">A Flask of Scotch, a Pipe of Shag—and Thou<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Beside me caddying in the Wilderness—<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Ah, Wilderness were Paradise enow.<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">They say the Female and the Duffer strut<br/></span>
<span class="i0">On sacred Greens where Morris used to put;<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Himself a natural Hazard now, alas!<br/></span>
<span class="i0">That nice hand quiet now, that great Eye shut.<br/></span>
<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_320" id="Page_320"></SPAN></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I sometimes think that never springs so green<br/></span>
<span class="i0">The Turf as where some Good Fellow has been,<br/></span>
<span class="i2">And every emerald Stretch the Fair Green shows<br/></span>
<span class="i0">His kindly Tread has known, his sure Play seen.<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Myself when young did eagerly frequent<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Jamie and His, and heard great argument<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Of Grip and Stance and Swing; but evermore<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Found at the Exit but a Dollar spent.<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">With them the seed of Wisdom did I sow,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">And with mine own hand sought to make it grow;<br/></span>
<span class="i2">And this was all the Harvest that I reaped:<br/></span>
<span class="i0">"You hold it This Way, and you swing it So."<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The swinging Brassie strikes; and, having struck,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Moves on: nor all your Wit or future Luck<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Shall lure it back to cancel half a Stroke,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Nor from the Card a single Seven pluck.<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And that inverted Ball they call the High—<br/></span>
<span class="i0">By which the Duffer thinks to live or die,<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Lift not your hands to <span class="smcap">It</span> for help, for it<br/></span>
<span class="i0">As impotently froths as you or I.<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Yon rising Moon that leads us Home again,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">How oft hereafter will she wax and wane;<br/></span>
<span class="i2">How oft hereafter rising wait for us<br/></span>
<span class="i0">At this same Turning—and for One in vain.<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And when, like her, my Golfer, I have been<br/></span>
<span class="i0">And am no more above the pleasant Green,<br/></span>
<span class="i2">And you in your mild Journey pass the Hole<br/></span>
<span class="i0">I made in One—ah! pay my Forfeit then!<br/></span>
<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_321" id="Page_321"></SPAN></span></div>
</div>
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