Poems (Paperback)

Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: Fytte IV.?IN UTRUMQUE PARATUS. A LOGICAL DISCUSSION.] Then hey for boot and horse, lad And round the world away Young blood will have its course, lad And every dog his day ?C. Kingtleg. There's a formula which the west country clowns Once used, ere their blows fell thick, At the fairs on the Devon and Cornwall downs, In their bouts with the single-stick. You may read a moral, nor far amiss, If you care to moralise, In the crossing guard, where the ash-plants kiss, To the words God spare our eyes. No game was ever yet worth a rap For a rational man to play, Into which no accident, no mishap, Could possibly find its way. If you hold the willow, a shooter from Wills May transform you into a hopper, And the football meadow is rife with spills, If you feel disposed for a cropper; In a rattling gallop with hound and horse You may chance to reverse the medal On the sward, with the saddle your loins across, And your hunter's loins on the saddle; In the stubbles you'll find it hard to frame A remonstrance firm, yet civil. When oft as our mutual friend takes aim, Long odds may be laid on the rising game, And against your gaiters level; There's danger even where fish are caught To those who a wetting fear; For what's worth having must aye be bought, And sport's like life, and life's like sport? It ain't all skittles and beer. The honey bag lies close to the sting, The rose is fenced by the thorn, Shall we leave to others their gathering, And turn from clustering fruits that cling To the garden wall in scorn ? Albeit those purple grapes hang high, Like the fox in the ancient tale, Let us pause and try, ere we pass them by. Though we, like the fox, may fail. All hurry is worse than...