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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=339891" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Verses Inspired by 'My Old Black Pipe</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Aye ! Many a sport old Homer names.<br>By Achilles held ' at his little games ',<br>On the banks of the swift Scamander ;<br>And Pindar sings the Olympian deeds<br>Of the ivory car and the milk-white steeds<br>Of Catullus or Lysander.<br> <br>How clouds of dust aloft were spurn'd<br>By wheels that grazed the goals as they turn'd<br>Till the bright sparks flicker'd redly ;<br>How the strains of mingled mirth and fury,<br>That swell'd in the chant of ' Morituri ',<br>Proclaimed when the sports were deadly.<br> <br>Ah ! little we cared for classic lore,<br>When Greek was a task and Latin a bore,<br>In school-days that are deemed of yore ;<br>And who will venture to chide us,<br>If better we loved the play-field green,<br>And the black-thorn hedge that served as a screen<br>In the mills that settled our boyish spleen,<br>From the tutor's eyes to hide us ?<br> <br>Who envies the bygone days of old ?<br>They never were half so good as we're told ;<br>Their loss is not worth bewailing.<br>We have seen young Camel's slashing stride,<br>And Archer's rush, and Mormon's pride ;<br>And the deer-like bound of Ingleside,<br>At ' five-foot-three ' of a paling.<br> <br>We've seen how the side of Falcon bled,<br>And the hopes of Arinna's backers fled<br>When the Rose of Denmark shot ahead,<br>And never again they caught her.<br>How false were the shouts of ' Barwon's first ! '<br>When she came 'from the distance home' with a burst,<br>And the favourite's friends devoutly cursed<br>Old Premier's gamest daughter.<br> <br>What cheers for King Alfred's white-faced son<br>Were heard when the Western chase was done,<br>And the judge's verdict given ;<br>While Vandyke fell in the beaten ranks,<br>And the red spots showed on the mare's great flanks<br>How vainly the steel was driven.<br> <br>And with anxious longing we wait the day,<br>When the prads must strip for the coming fray,<br>To be criticized in rotation ;<br>But to spot the winner we well not try,<br>For a mist obscures our mental eye,<br>And we have not the power of prophecy,<br>Nor the spirit of divination.<br> <br>Yet in fancy's glass we may scan the course,<br>And hear the bookmaker's challenge hoarse,<br>The odds incessantly dunning ;<br>We may watch the starter's signal fall,<br>And the nags may picture, one and all,<br>For a Cup in a cluster running.<br> <br>And mark, as they sweep before the stand<br>How Ebor is going well in hand,<br>And Banker is pulling double ;<br>How longer each moment grows the tail,<br>As one by one the outsiders fail,<br>To get into grief and trouble.<br> <br>How Trainor pulls out of Waldock's track,<br>And Morrison steadies the Caulfield crack,<br>While up on the right comes the rose and black<br>Like an eagle that scents the plunder ;<br>How round the turn they jostle and crush,<br>And Simpson clears his whip for a rush,<br>And then on the crowd comes a lull and a hush<br>And then a roar like thunder.<br> <br>And when Beaufort collars the Western pet,<br>Then Greek meets Greek, unconquered yet,<br>And the tug of war commences ;<br>As stride for stride, with the stoke of one,<br>Like greyhounds running with couples on<br>Together they fly their fences.<br> <br>There ' Vates ' and ' Rhyming Richard ' too,<br>Can tell much better than I or you<br>What nags are likely the trick to do,<br>Nor will I their judgement sneer at ;<br>If the gift of second sight were mine,<br>I'd make a fortune, and then ' I'd shine ',<br>But I haven't got it, and so I'll sign<br>' Qui Meruit Palmam Ferat '.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Adam+Lindsay+Gordon">Adam Lindsay Gordon</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=339891" data-title="Verses Inspired by 'My Old Black Pipe de Adam Lindsay Gordon" data-description="Aye ! Many a sport old Homer names.
By Achilles held ' at his little games ',
On the banks of the swift Scamander ;
And Pindar sings the Olympian deeds
Of the ivory car and the milk-white steeds
Of Catullus or Lysander.
 
How clouds of dust aloft ..."></div>
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