The Poetry Corner

A Good Sport

By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

I was a little lad, and the older boys called to me from the pier: They called to me:'Be a sport:be a sport!Leap in and swim!' I leaped in and swam, though I had never been taught a stroke. Then I was made a hero, and they all shouted: 'Well done!Well done, Brave boy, you are a sport, a good sport!' And I was very glad. But now I wish I had learned to swim the right way, Or had never learned at all. Now I regret that day, For it led to my fall. I was a youth, and I heard the older men talking of the road to wealth; They talked of bulls and bears, of buying on margins, And they said, 'Be a sport, my boy, plunge in and win or lose it all! It is the only way to fortune.' So I plunged in and won; and the older men patted me on the back, And they said, 'You are a sport, my boy, a good sport!' And I was very glad. But now I wish I had lost all I ventured on that day - Yes, wish I had lost it all. For it was the wrong way, And pushed me to my fall. I was a young man, and the gay world called me to come; Gay women and gay men called to me, crying: 'Be a sport; be a good sport! Fill our glasses and let us fill yours. We are young but once; let us dance and sing, And drive the dull hours of night until they stand at bay Against the shining bayonets of day.' So I filled my glass, and I filled their glasses, over and over again, And I sang and danced and drank, and drank and danced and sang, And I heard them cry, 'He is a sport, a good sport!' As they held their glasses out to be filled again. And I was very glad. Oh the madness of youth and song and dance and wine, Of woman's eyes and lips, when the night dies in the arms of dawn! And now I wish I had not gone that way. Now I wish I had not heard them say, 'He is a sport, a good sport!' For I am old who should be young. The splendid vigour of my youth I flung Under the feet of a mad, unthinking throng. My strength went out with wine and dance and song; Unto the winds of earth I tossed like chaff, With idle jest and laugh, The pride of splendid manhood, all its wealth Of unused power and health - Its dream of looking into some pure girl's eyes And finding there its earthly paradise - Its hope of virile children free from blight - Its thoughts of climbing to some noble height Of great achievement -all these gifts divine I cast away for song and dance and wine. Oh, I have been a sport, a good sport; But I am very sad.