Volume 156 — TO A SEVEN-YEAR-OLD

Here's a gift to take and treasure, England's gift as well as mine, Symbol of her clean-spent leisure, Of her youth and strength a sign; Gleams of sunlight on old meadows O'er these varnished toys are cast, And within that box's shadows Stir the triumphs of the Past. Still the ancient tale entrances, Giving us in golden dower ULYETT'S drives and IVO's glances, JACKSON'S dash and THORNTON'S power; Skill of LYTTELTONS and LACEYS, Grit of SHREWSBURYS and GUNNS; Pride of STUDDS and STEELS and GRACES Piling up their English runs. Take these simple toys as token Of the champions that have been, Stalwart in defence unbroken, Hefty hitters, hitting clean; And, when capped in Life's eleven, May you stand as firm as they; May you, little son of seven, Play the game the English way. W.H.O.