The Poetry Corner

The Golf-Ball And The Loan. After Longfellow

By Robert Fuller Murray

I drove a golf-ball into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where; For, so swiftly it flew, the sight Could not follow it in its flight. I lent five shillings to some men, They spent it all, I know not when, For who is quick enough to know The time in which a crown may go? Long, long afterward, in a whin I found the golf-ball, black as sin; But the five shillings are missing still! They haven't turned up, and I doubt if they will.