When George and Cumming strain from end to end
Of the long cinder-path in panting speed;
When wheelmen swift alternate lag and lead;
When white-plumed yachts spread emulative wings
To the salt wind that through the cordage sings;
When Notts and Surrey fight for pride of place,
Or the ring cheers the "many-centuried" Grace.
Bound by his betting-book, the cynic churl—
With coarse-gemmed hands and greasy frontal curl,
When fortune smiles, or frowsy when she frowns