Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO A MAYFLY, by PATRICK REGINALD CHALMERS

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TO A MAYFLY, by            
First Line: Hampshire woods are in summer's keeping
Last Line: Wait till saturday, then you'll see!
Subject(s): Golf; Sports

HAMPSHIRE woods are in summer's keeping,
Sunshine's sleeping
On banks of may,
Spring has taken her smiles and weeping
Over the hills and far away!

Now, Ephemera, now you gladden
Streams, and madden
The morning rise;
Craftiest monsters now are had on
By the veriest tyro's flies!

Now from memory's mist an vapours
Gut that tapers,
By Fancy thrown,
Drops you here on my books and papers—
Gossamer wraith—so lightly blown!

Till I see in your green-coat flicker
Brooks that bicker
And streams that swell;
And an elderly pulse goes quicker
Under your old-time magic spell!

Far too long on the links I've striven,
Tee'd and driven,
(And cursed mishap!)
Far too long has my time been given
To the cult of my handicap!

Has my wrist for your gentler science
Still compliance
To work my will?
Can I look for the old reliance
In its flexible easy skill?

Or has Philistine usage rusted
Tendons trusted
Of old to ply,
When your delicate legions dusted
Pool and shallow—the green-drake fly?

Ha! the ruler I deftly dandle—
Claims of Vandal
Amusements flee,
As it turns to a split-cane handle—
Wait till Saturday, then you'll see!

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