It is little I repair to the matches of the Southron folk,
Though my own red roses there may blow;
It is little I repair to the matches of the Southron folk,
Though the red roses crest the caps, I know.
For the field is full of shades as I near the shadowy coast,
And a ghostly batsman plays to the bowling of a ghost,
And I look through my tears on a soundless-clapping host
As the run-stealers flicker to and fro,
To and fro: -
O my Hornby and my Barlow long ago!
At Lord's
Francis Thompson
(2)
Poem topics: field, long, ghost, red, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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Write your comment about At Lord's poem by Francis Thompson
Kevin Godfrey: This poem has its origin in a love of cricket and, particularly, Lancashire CCC. I am a Hampshire man and loyal to my county, but I love the poem. Its evocation of the sheer joy of the game is surely deeply felt by cricket lovers around the country.
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