A pitcher known in the days gone by
As a star of the first degree
Was making the dirt and gravel fly
In the shade of an old oak tree.
His spade was long and his arm was strong,
And the ditch that he dug was wide;
He paused at the sound of the dinner gong—
And this is the sermon he sighed:
“Young man, you are climbing the ladder now—
Your arm is as firm as steel;
The wreath of laurel is on your brow
And the pride of a prince you feel.
Do you think you will play when your hair turns gray?
I thought my prowess would last,
But you can’t strike out the men of to-day
With the curves you threw in the past!”
In the merciless baseball game of life
We may shine for a fleeting hour,
But the strongest frame comes to shun the strife
And loses its youthful power.
So strive to lay, while it comes your way,
A fence for Adversity’s blast.
You can’t strike out the men of to-day
With the curves you threw in the past. |
