Close by a player, leaning on the rail,
Clasping a racket, Tate-made, in his hand—
A champion among men, who made me hail,
And led me to the stand.
His cigarette from out his mouth he drew:
Blew out white clouds, then said, with courteous smile—
"Hast come to see great players? Good! Then you
Had best stay here awhile.
"I am the champion! ask thou not my name;
Not to know me argues thyself unknown.