My body's crouched beneath a "Table Shelter", But my unhampered mind is far away; My hands may quiver and my breathing falter But still my memory watches men at play; They played at bowls—I see the "woods" still rolling, And hear the gentle clinking when they touch; I see the friendly smiles that greet good bowling; My shelter shakes, but I shan't mind too much If only I can keep those bowlers playing Just as they played last month, beside a wall Of sunlit yellow stone—yes, they are staying, I hear soft chimes, I hear a ringdove call, And all the pleasure of the men who played Reaches me still and keeps me unafraid. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FLAMMONDE by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON SONG OF SLAVES IN THE DESERT by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER RHENISH AUTUMN; TO TOUSSAINT LUCA by GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE IN APRIL by MARGARET LEE ASHLEY LES HALLES D'YPRES by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |