IT'S sport for gentlemen, but rage and pain And loss self-sought for them who fail in poise; If you come last, from blasphemy refrain And don't boil over with a snorting noise; Toil not o'er toys nor with your duty jest, But learn to give each hour what fits it best. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOLES BORED IN A WORKBAG BY THE SCISSORS by MARIANNE MOORE WITH BEST WISHES by DOROTHY PARKER QUIET WORK; SONNET by MATTHEW ARNOLD THE FOREST MAID by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT EVENING by GEORGE WASHINGTON DOANE TO AN INSECT by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES THE JEWISH CEMETERY AT NEWPORT by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW |