Rain
The rain is raining all around,
It falls on turf and tree;
But I don’t care how wet I get—
I made that hole in three!
Travel
Winters I should like to go
Where there is no cold and snow,
Where, below another sky,
Lureful links Elysian lie;—
Where, with nothing else to do,
I should golf the whole day through,
Pausing only now and then
For a bite, then back again.
Southward I would track the sun:
Travel always broadens one.