Norman Rowland Gale Poems

Have you seen the golfers airy
Prancing forth to their vagary,
Just as frisky in their gaiters
As a flock of Grecian Satyrs,
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Last night some yellow letters fell
From out a scrip I found by chance;
Among them was the silent ghost,
The spirit of my first romance:
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Bartholomew is very sweet,
From sandy hair to rosy feet.
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I'm greedy by nature, and often in vain
Have lingered too long o'er the succulent hare,
Accepting the jelly, ignoring the pain,
Intent on receiving far more than my share.
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HERE in the country’s heart
Where the grass is green,
Life is the same sweet life
As it e’er hath been.
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O might I leave this grassy place
For spreading foam about my feet!
The splendid spray upon my face,
The flying brine itself were sweet
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On Helen’s heart the day were night!
But I may not adventure there:
Here breast is guarded by a right,
And she is true as fair.
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You voluble,
Velvety
Vehement fellows
That play on your
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In summer, when the grass is thick, if Mother has the time,
She shows me with her pencil how a poet makes a rhyme,
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If you passed her in your city
You would call her badly dressed,
But the faded homespun covers
Such a heart in such a breast!
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