On The Golf Club Porch
As we sit and dream in the silent porch
Together, my pipe and I,
A cloud of smoke from the old brown bowl
Floats up to the dappled sky ;
And I watch through its dim, enchanted haze
A little sunbonnet go,
In shadow and shine o'er the grassy links
That lie in the vale below.
For early and late, all the long, bright day.
It is busy flitting there;
With a caddie wandering in its train,
While the white ball flies in the air;
A sunbonnet, ancient of pattern, such
As Priscilla's sweet self wore
When she walked with the homesick pilgrim maids
Long since, on an alien shore.
And the jolly lads, in the jackets red —
There's never a one goes by
But he slacks his pace and he turns his head,
And he feels his heart beat high
At the glance he gets and the smile he brings
To the roguish face within
That sheltering scoop, with its soft strings tied
In a knot beneath her chin.
But I bide my time on the silent porch,
For I know whom she loves best,
And that by and bye, when the game is done,
And the day lies low in the west.
She will hang her sunbonnet on her arm,
And the peeping stars will see
What a soft light lies in her happy eyes,
As she wanders home with me.
Anonymous. Lyrics of the Links, 1921
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