Verse > Siegfried Sassoon > The Old Huntsman and Other Poems
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Siegfried Sassoon (1886–1967).  The Old Huntsman and Other Poems.  1918.

40. David Cleek


I CANNOT think that Death will press his claim 
To snuff you out or put you off your game: 
You’ll still contrive to play your steady round, 
Though hurricanes may sweep the dismal ground, 
And darkness blur the sandy-skirted green         5
Where silence gulfs the shot you strike so clean. 
  
Saint Andrew guard your ghost, old David Cleek, 
And send you home to Fifeshire once a week! 
Good fortune speed your ball upon its way 
When Heaven decrees its mightiest Medal Day;  10
Till saints and angels hymn for evermore 
The miracle of your astounding score; 
And He who keeps all players in His sight, 
Walking the royal and ancient hills of light 
Standing benignant at the eighteenth hole,  15
To everlasting Golf consigns your soul. 


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