Golf poem |

Golf poem

by Terry Gingell

Sir John Betjeman wrote this poem. A British poet Laureate and occasional golfer. He is no longer with us but his words live on.

Seaside Golf.

How straight it flew, how long it flew,

It cleared the rutty track

And soaring disappeared from view

Beyond the bunkers back-

A glorious, sailing, bounding drive

That made me glad I was alive.

And down the fairway, far and long

It glowed a lonely white;

I played an iron sure and strong

And clipp’d it out of sight,

And spite of grassy banks between

I knew I’d find it on the green.

And so I did. It lay content

Two paces from the pin;

And steady put and then it went

Oh most surely in.

The very turf rejoiced to see

That quite unprecedented three.

Ah! Seaweed smells from sandy caves

And thyme and mist in whiffs;

In-coming tide, Atlantic waves

Slapping the sunny cliffs,

Lark song and sea sounds in the air

And splendor, splendor, everywhere.

Have a wonderful Christmas and A Happy New Year!