For in my morning sheet I’d seen it bruited,
Mid talk of Jazz and Fox Trot, plaids and checks,
That boxing was a sport precisely suited
To what it quaintly called the gentler sex;
I thought about the coming day when bevies
Of beauty would be found inside the ropes,
And saw you, eminent among the “heavies,”
The whitest of white hopes.
I saw—and at the vision England’s stock ran
High above par—how in the padded strife,