ONE in a long dark pigtail cries, "Now to your places all." I hang my head; indeed I dread This game of basket ball. The ball it mounts up to the skies, We watch its sickening fall; Wildly we rush, each other push, And on the ground we sprawl. They jump upon us where we lie, They kick us where we fall; With groan of pain, we play again The noble game of basket ball. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: OAKS TUTT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS EPITAPH ON HIMSELF by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE EASTER WINGS by GEORGE HERBERT CEREMONIES FOR CANDLEMASSE EVE by ROBERT HERRICK A DUTCH PROVERB by MATTHEW PRIOR ELEGIAC SONNET: 7. ON THE DEPARTURE OF THE NIGHTINGALE by CHARLOTTE SMITH |