WITH them the seed of Wisdom did I sow,
And with mine own hand sought to make it grow;
And this was all the Harvest that I reap’d—
“You hold it This Way, and you swing it So.”
XXIX
PATIENT I fared to many a sacred Spot,
Ev’n at the Shrine of Andrew cast my lot,
And many a Knot unravel’d by the Road;
But not, alas! of Golf the Master-knot.
