WHEN you get the losing habit, it is hard, so hard to shake— It will cling right with you, much tighter than a leech— You may think you've downed it, driven it away at last, And it bobs up suddenly and gives a hideous screech! You may go along eight innings, with a comfortable lead, And you're counting on one glad, victorious day— Then a flock of errors will assemble on the scene, And before the carnage stops the game is tossed away! You may far outhit the hostiles, and field better on the green, And your pitcher may be there with curves and speed, But, along the road, your losing luck will soak you, And you'll stumble and fall flat in time of need! When you get that losing habit, it's the closest thing on earth— It climbs your neck and then you get an awful ride— It has all the mustard plasters in this wide creation beaten, When that losing habit lingers grimly by your side! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HERO-WORSHIP; SONNET by AMY LOWELL A BIRTHDAY by LOUIS UNTERMEYER LOVE IN THE VALLEY (VERSION A) by GEORGE MEREDITH EDWIN MORRIS; OR, THE LAKE by ALFRED TENNYSON POEM FOR PICTURE: TO A DRAWING OF A HORSE BY GEORGIO DI CHIRICO by FRANK ANKENBRAND JR. FINDING CYNTHIA IN PAIN, AND CRYING; A SONNET by PHILIP AYRES |