Golf Links – Golf Poetry

GOLF LINKS 

WHAT are the links of golf we prize? 
The ground o'er which the fine drive flies? 
The dirt of acres finely kept? 
The putting greens so smoothly swept? 
The fair green 'twixt the magic holes? 
The guiding flags on teasing poles? 
The long grass out of which we pitch? 
The bunker, hazard, pond and ditch? 

Not these true golfers love the most, 
Though over them we like to boast. 
These earthly links are paths serene 
To things of nobler worth unseen. 
Golf clubs are rivets that secure; 
Strong links of chains that long endure. 
We name a few. Each golfer knows 
How link to link his own chain grows. 

Nature 

Golf links to Nature — dear old dame — 
Her skies, her sward, her trees. The game 
On breast of Mother Earth we play, 
And learn to love her more each day. 

Health 

Golf links to Health. Hygeia's grace 
Doth weary muscle, brain, replace 
Through stride and swing, and open pores, 
In sunny air, God's out-of-doors. 

Peace 
Golf links to Peace. Far from the mind 
It drives the cobwebs, soothes the grind 
Of business, trouble, care and fret. 
In golf, life's bunkers we forget. 

Honor

Golf links to Honor, for we dare 
A count and contest strictly fair. 
We play the lie, confess the stroke, 
Nor let our shame untruth provoke. 

Men 

Golf links to Men. No lonesome thrives. 
We putt into each other's lives. 
Our sticks are hooks both keen and strong 
That grip our friendship tight and long. 

Self 

Golf links to Self. The noblest soul, 
Not Colonel Bogey, wins the hole. 
The gentleman, self-mastered, high, 
Plays par with self to victory. 

God 

Golf links to God. For, in His sight, 
Both work and play, when done aright,
Help men to grow. And manhood true 
Best shows the world what God can do. 

Prizes 

Golf wins these prizes of our game — 
Above all titles, cups and fame ; 
Within the reach of all they lie. 
Why love we golf? You now know why. 

W. C. Bitting, in Lyrics of the Links, published in 1921

The Reverend W.C. Bitting was the longtime pastor of The Second Baptist Church in St. Louis, and later in Mt. Morris. He was the author of several books and widely known in his era.

This poem, I think, deserves much wider appreciation, for it speaks to what draws us into the game and keeps us there.