English Poetry. Norman Rowland Gale. The Last Ball of Summer. Норман Гейл.

Norman Rowland Gale (Норман Гейл)

The Last Ball of Summer

'Tis the last ball of Summer
  Left rolling alone;
All his artful companions
  Are smitten and gone;
No trace of his kindred,
  No shooter is seen
To relate all the glories
  Of Briggs and Nepean.

I'll not leave thee, thou lone one,
  To curl on the stumps;
Since thy brothers were slogged so,
  Partake of their thumps!
Thus kindly I smack thee
  Afar in the heavens,
Where the mates of thy tribe went
  For sixes and sevens!

And soon may there follow,
  Ere sinews decay,
A capital season
  To get thee away!
For muscles must wither,
  Our cricket be flown;
And we shall inhabit
  Pavilions, and groan!

Norman Rowland Gale’s other poems:

1. The Church Cricketant
2. Revenge
3. The Hope of Surrey
4. The Commentator
5. Golf Steals Our Youth

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