Verse > Anthologies > Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. > An American Anthology, 1787–1900
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Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908).  An American Anthology, 1787–1900.  1900.
 
1337. The Hundred-Yard Dash
 
By William Lindsey
 
 
GIVE me a race that is run in a breath,
  Straight from the start to the “tape;”
Distance hath charms, but a “Ding Dong” means death,
  Death without flowers and crape.
 
“On your mark,” “Set,”—for a moment we strain,        5
  Held by a leash all unseen;
“P’ff,” we are off, from the pistol we gain
  Yards, if the starter’s not keen.
 
Off like lean greyhounds, the cinders scarce stir
  Under the touch of our feet;        10
Flashes of sunlight, the crowd’s muffled purr,
  The rush of the wind, warm and sweet.
 
One last fierce effort; the red worsted breaks,
  Struggle and strain are all past;
Only ten ticks of the watch, but it makes        15
  First, second, third, and the last.
 

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