I must go down to the lawn again, to the bright green sward and the balls,
And all I ask is a mallet and a hoop that calls.
The hit goes down and hits the ball and towards the hoop it’s racing,
Towards the hole between the uprights its facing.
I must go down to the lawn again for the call comes to my mind,
Where joy and happiness there I find,
And all I ask is a windless day with a bright blue sky
And the balls go straight every hit that I try.
I must go down to the lawn again to that wonder in my life,
Where any sorrows in my mind are lost and never rife,
And all I ask is a merry word from a laughing fellow drover,
And a quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the game is over.
-
Author:
Goldfinch60 (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 9th, 2025 01:02
- Comment from author about the poem: A con from Sea Fever by John Masefield
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 13
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy
Offline)
Comments6
The weather is just perfect I hear. 🌹
It certainly is Teddy, croquet is flowing. LOL
Andy
Run the race well and finish well, all else is fluff🙏🏻🕊️
Thank you arqios, running may be hard at my age. 😂😂😂
Andy
Oh true; so let us s speak of heart and passion that runs it race!
A poem that calms like an old friend or a sunny Sunday afternoon. It feels so familiar and home like. A lovely write Andy
Most kind soren and much appreciated.
Andy
Enjoyable read about a game that is a bit harder to play than you first think
Very true Tobani, it is a great game to play.
Andy
You are very welcome
Superb.
Thank you Thomas.
Andy
Hi Ho, Hi Ho It's off to Croquet We Go - better 'n Work yer reckon?
Very true Dave. WORK? WORK? I have heard that word before and wonder what it means. LOL
Andy
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