THE scribe returns from training camp, From tropic suns and tropic damp, From mixing with the chattering droves Of agents selling orange groves, From each once-famous Spanish place Where now the rookies slide to base— He's back—and all he hears is just "How do they look? Are they a bust?" While every rooter wildly pants "How do they look? Have they a chance?" Oh, babblier than any brook, Comes that one chant, "How do they look?" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ILKA BLADE O' GRASS KEPS ITS AIN DRAP O' DEW by JAMES BALLANTYNE BABY'S SHOES by WILLIAM COX BENNETT ROBERT BRUCE'S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY BEFORE BANNOCKBURN by ROBERT BURNS A LILLIPUTIAN ODE ON THEIR MAJESTIES' ACCESSION by HENRY CAREY (1687-1743) ELEGY: 11. THE BRACELET; UPON THE LOSS OF HIS MISTRESS'S CHAIN by JOHN DONNE BROTHER GENE by EVA K. ANGLESBURG |