Yesterday – Golf Poetry

YESTERDAY 

I've trod the links with many a man, 
And played him club for club; 
'Tis scarce a year since I began, 
And I am still a dub. 
But this I've noticed as we strayed 
Along the bunkered way : 
No one with me has ever played 
As he did yesterday. 

It makes no difference what the drive; 
Together as we walk, 
Till we up to the ball arrive, 
I get the same old talk. 
"Today, there's something wrong with me, 
Just what I cannot say. 
Would you believe I got a three 
On this hole — yesterday.'" 

I see them top and slice a shot, 
And fail to follow through, 
And with their brasseys plough the lot. 
The very way I do. 
To six and seven their figures run, 
And then they sadly say: 
"I neither dubbed nor foozled one, 
When I played — yesterday." 

I have no yesterdays to count, 
No good work to recall ; 
Each morning sees hope proudly mount, 
Each evening sees it fall. 
And in the locker room at night, 
When men discuss their play, 
I hear them, and I wish I might 
Have seen them — yesterday. 

O dear old yesterday! What store 
Of joys for men you hold! 
I'm sure there is no day that's more 
Remembered or extolled. 
I'm off my task myself a bit. 
My mind has run astray ; 
I think, perhaps, I should have writ 
These verses — yesterday. 

Edgar A. Guest, in Lyrics of the Links, published in 1921

Edgar Guest (1881 -1959) was a popular poet who was known as "The People's Poet."

Guest was born in England, but lived in Detroit from 1891 until his death. He first began working at the Detroit Free Press as a teen. Eventually his work was syndicated in 300 newspapers across the country; his poetry was collected in twenty books.

In all, Guest published more than 11,000 poems! He published a new poem every day for thirty years in the Detroit Free Press.

Guest also hosted a radio program and a NBC television series called "A Guest In Your House."

In 1952, Guest was named Poet Laureate of Michigan, a position he held until his death in 1959. He remains Michigan's only Poet Laureate.