A POLONAISE
Reading edition
"Nemo me on pony lacessit."
Mad bards, I hear, have gaily trolled The boundless joys of cricket; Have praised the bowler and the bowled And keeper of the wicket. I cannot join their merry song— Non valeo sed volo— But really I can come out strong, Whene'er I sing of Polo! Let golfophiles delight to air Their putter-niblick learning; And, scarlet-coated, swipe and swear When summer sun is burning! Let artful cards sit up and pass Their nights in playing bolo; But let me gambol—o'er the grass— And make my game at Polo! On chequered chess-boards students gaze O'er futile moves oft grieving; With knights content to pass their days, And constant checks receiving. 'Mid kings and queens I have no place, Espiscopari nolo— I'd rather o'er the greensward race, And find no check in Polo! Then let me have my supple steed— Good-tempered, uncomplaining— So sure of foot, so rare in speed, In perfect polo training. And let me toast in rare old port, In Heidsieck or Barolo, In shady-gaff or something short— The keen delights of Polo!
Motto for Croquet.—"She Stoops to Conquer."
In-Door Amusement for Old People.—The game of croakey.
How to Learn to Love Your Enemies.—Play at croquet.
For the Drawing-Room (When there's a dead silence.)—My first is a bird; my second's a letter of the alphabet: my whole is some game.
Explanation. Crow. K. (Croquet.)
Lucy Mildmay (who is fond of technical terms). "By the way—a—are they playing 'Rugby' or 'Association'?"
"OUT! FIRST BALL! A CATCH!!"
A player who sprained his wrist at lawn-tennis explained that "he had been trying a regular wrenchaw, and did it effectually."