* * * * *

ALL THE YEAR ROUND;

_OR, KEEPING UP THE BALL._

When September soaks the fields,
And the leaves begin to fall,
Cricket unto Football yields,--
That is all!

Yes--in hot or humid weather,
At all seasons of the year,
Life is little without leather
In a sphere.

In the scrimmage, at the stumps,
'Neath the goal, behind the sticks,
Life's a ball, which Summer thumps,
Winter kicks.

From NAUSICAA--classic girl!
Unto RENSHAW, GUNN, and GRACE,
Balls mankind _must_ kick or hurl,
"Slog" or "place."

Our "terrestrial ball" is round,
(Is it an idea chimerical?)
Man, by hidden instincts bound,