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mcclain-jeffrey-moredockPoems
How do I love thee? Let me count the strokes.       I love thee to the depth and breadth and height       My ball can reach when sailing out of sight       For the end of rounds and ideal shots.       I love to the level of every player’s       Most quiet need, by sun and failing light.       I love thee freely, as men strive for greens.       I love thee purely, as they turn from rough.       I love thee with the passion put to use       In my old clubs, and with my hacker’s faith.       I love thee with a love I seemed to lose       With my last swing—I love thee with the pars,       Birdies, bogeys of all my life!       And if God choose       I shall but play thee better after death.
0
Sep 9, 2016
Sep 9, 2016 at 12:49 PM UTC
GAWF...with Apologies to E.B. Browning
How do I love thee? Let me count the strokes.       I love thee to the depth and breadth and height       My ball can reach when sailing out of sight       For the end of rounds and ideal shots.       I love to the level of every player’s       Most quiet need, by sun and failing light.       I love thee freely, as men strive for greens.       I love thee purely, as they turn from rough.       I love thee with the passion put to use       In my old clubs, and with my hacker’s faith.       I love thee with a love I seemed to lose       With my last swing—I love thee with the pars,       Birdies, bogeys of all my life!       And if God choose       I shall but play thee better after death.
Written by
mcclain-jeffrey-moredock
North Port, FL-Oct-May
Sep 9, 2016
Sep 9, 2016 at 12:49 PM UTC
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