An Amateur’s Rosary

AN AMATEUR'S ROSARY 

THE hours I've searched for you, dear ball, 
Were long and weary, I'll confess ; 
And only one thing was to blame for all, 
My awkwardness, my awkwardness ! 
Each drive a slice, a slice that sent 
You sailing out for parts unknown; 
How often have I walked and searched and bent 

With weary groan. 

O memories of air made blue ! 

And miles of territory crossed 
In endless labor, for it seemed that you 

Were always lost, dear ball, 

Were always lost. 

George B. Staff, in Lyrics of the Links, 1921.