My body's crouched beneath a "Table Shelter", But my unhampered mind is far away; My hands may quiver and my breathing falter But still my memory watches men at play; They played at bowls—I see the "woods" still rolling, And hear the gentle clinking when they touch; I see the friendly smiles that greet good bowling; My shelter shakes, but I shan't mind too much If only I can keep those bowlers playing Just as they played last month, beside a wall Of sunlit yellow stone—yes, they are staying, I hear soft chimes, I hear a ringdove call, And all the pleasure of the men who played Reaches me still and keeps me unafraid. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BIRD OF PARADISE by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES THE BOSTON EVENING TRANSCRIPT by THOMAS STEARNS ELIOT BLOOD IS THICKER THAN WATER by WALLACE RICE THE TRIUMPHS OF THY CONQUERING POWER by WILLIAM HILEY BATHURST THE DRUG-SHOP, OR, ENDYMION IN EDMONSTOUN by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET MEASUREMENTS by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON EPITAPH ON NICOL OF THE HIGH SCHOOL, EDINBURGH by ROBERT BURNS |