THE veteran stands forth and swings a bat Tremendous. Horrendous. Yea, it might e'en be styled portendous. Loud rolls his welcome through the gratulating crowd, "Hit it, old boy—we're with you, and we know Your awful blow Will knock the pitcher tottering from the slab Into some taxicab Bearing him from the field to some cool spot Where managers intrude their faces not, And the slow gurgle of the beer Gives happiness, relief, and cheer." The veteran bows low, and pounds his bat Upon the plate. Comes a sardonic call: "Aw, do not hit the plate, you Mesozoic pelican, but hit The ball!" He glares upon the pitcher, and his ash Meets the hurled leather with a fearful crash. Is it a homer? Nope. A little foul Right in the catcher's mitt. Hark to the howl That rises: "Antiquated mutt, Back to the Zoo! The monkey-house claims you! Your usefulness departed ere the golden time When Uncle Anson entered on his prime! Get Outa Here!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SICILIAN EMIGRANT'S SONG by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THIRD BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 23 by THOMAS CAMPION SUMMER SHOWER by EMILY DICKINSON ODE INSCRIBED TO W.H. CHANNING by RALPH WALDO EMERSON TO THE WATER NYMPHS DRINKING AT THE FOUNTAIN by ROBERT HERRICK |