Husbands are things that wives have to get used to putting up with.
And with whom they breakfast with and sup with.
They interfere with the discipline of nurseries,
And forget anniversaries,
And when they have been particularly remiss
They think they can cure everything with a great big kiss,
And when you tell them about something awful they have done they just
look unbearably patient and smile a superior smile,
And think, Oh she'll get over it after a while.
And they always drink cocktails faster than they can assimilate them,
......
As a non-golfing husband I revel at tales
Of sunshine filled days chasing small balls,
Some in the rough others in sand,
All these brave girls fighting nature's pitfalls.
I hear of the times the flock of wild ducks
Hindered a drive that was perfectly hit,
And what of those trees that magically moved
With a subsequent shout 'I just want to quit'.
......
It is winter in California, and outside
Is like the interior of a florist shop:
A chilled and moisture-laden crop
Of pink camellias lines the path; and what
Rare roses for a banquet or a bride,
So multitudinous that they seem a glut!
A line of snails crosses the golf-green lawn
From the rosebushes to the ivy bed;
An arsenic compound is distributed
......
Because I have ten thousand pounds I sit upon my stern,
And leave my living tranquilly for other folks to earn.
For in some procreative way that isn't very clear,
Ten thousand pounds will breed, they say, five hundred every year.
So as I have a healthy hate of economic strife,
I mean to stand aloof from it the balance of my life.
And yet with sympathy I see the grimy son of toil,
And heartly congratulate the tiller of the soil.
I like the miner in the mine, the sailor on the sea,
Because up to five hundred pounds they sail and mine for me.
......
He was her guide. He lived in hell. Every day he thought
he was dead. Years after he's died, she thinks it's him stumbling
drunk through the subway turnstile. Just the two of them
on the platform. He asks her for money, pennies for passage:
In the nursing home, a palsied woman guards the door.
She asks: Are you coming back? Everyone in or out
must answer her. Don't leave me here. Come back.
Beatrice lies to get past her outstretched shaking hand.
Her father knows she's leaving him today. He waits.
......
As a non-golfing husband I revel at tales
Of sunshine filled days chasing small balls,
Some in the rough others in sand,
All these brave girls fighting nature's pitfalls.
I hear of the times the flock of wild ducks
Hindered a drive that was perfectly hit,
And what of those trees that magically moved
With a subsequent shout 'I just want to quit'.
......
There’s a part of me that say’s I’m jealous
Another thinks my golfing friends just zealous,
Whilst I crave fresh air and healthy motion
They’re busy slathering on the lotion
Before they mount some little cart
That with intent they simply point to dart
At breakneck speed from hole to hole
The putting of that little ball the goal.
Then there’s the clubs, that myriad bunch
......
(16th January 1949)
I thank whatever gods may be
For all the happiness that's mine;
That I am festive, fit and free
To savour women, wit and wine;
That I may game of golf enjoy,
And have a formidable drive:
In short, that I'm a gay old boy
Though I be
......
Because I have ten thousand pounds I sit upon my stern,
And leave my living tranquilly for other folks to earn.
For in some procreative way that isn't very clear,
Ten thousand pounds will breed, they say, five hundred every year.
So as I have a healthy hate of economic strife,
I mean to stand aloof from it the balance of my life.
And yet with sympathy I see the grimy son of toil,
And heartly congratulate the tiller of the soil.
I like the miner in the mine, the sailor on the sea,
Because up to five hundred pounds they sail and mine for me.
......
The Junior God looked from his place
In the conning towers of heaven,
And he saw the world through the span of space
Like a giant golf-ball driven.
And because he was bored, as some gods are,
With high celestial mirth,
He clutched the reins of a shooting star,
And he steered it down to earth.
The Junior God, 'mid leaf and bud,
......