Deserves the summit of your love!
Is this a time for dapper spats,
When foes arrive to test our worth?
Beg pardon of your gloves and bats,
And play the kingliest game on earth!




THE OLYMPIANS.


Let those who will believe the Gods
On high Olympus do not travel
Along the lane that Progress plods,
The tricks of mortals to unravel:
Let them believe who will they shun
The average of C.B. Fry,
Or never from their lilied park
A little nearer Clifton run
To watch with joy the crimson lark
By Jessop bullied to the sky.

They love the Game. So warm they glow,
Not seldom rise imperial quarrels;
And not so many moons ago
Jove boxed with zeal Apollo's laurels.
The question ran, Was Arthur Mold
Unfairly stigmatised by muffs,
Or did he play a dubious prank?