OUT into the mud and the wet he goes, My hero, tall and strong; Under his jersey the muscle shows, And, Samson-like, his dark hair grows Delightfully thick and long. Out from his feet the black mud flies, His jacket is far from white; Bother these boys with their dapper ties, Who come and compel me to turn my eyes Away from a nobler sight! The hills are red with the western sun, The twilight comes like a dream, But until the practice work is done I strain my eyes for his every run, And I know he will make the team. I envy the fellow who keeps his cap, With so little appreciation, While I stroll back with a soft-tongued chap Whose muscles I know aren't worth a rap, And whose hair is an imitation. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WRITTEN AFTER SWIMMING FROM SESTOS TO ABYDOS by GEORGE GORDON BYRON MY LADY'S TEARS by JOHN DOWLAND COLUMBUS by EDWARD EVERETT HALE SOMETHING BEYOND by MARY CLEMMER AMES HUDSON THE LABORS OF HERCULES by MARIANNE MOORE THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE AT [OR AFTER] CORUNNA by CHARLES WOLFE |