The Song of the Base Hit
A twist, a whirl, and a sudden jar,
And off from the bat to the field afar—
Off like the shot from a ten-inch gun,
A gray-white streak through the slanting sun
I soar away
Through a summer’s day
Where the frantic fielders of the fray,
With dervish dance
And anguished glance,
Come whirling in to cop me;
But I glide between
With a mocking mien,
And there is none to stop me.
A shout, a roar, and a ringing cheer,
And on my way through the atmosphere
I leap to the light where clenched hands grip
As wild eyes watch me fly or skip
Through open space
In headlong race,
As the joy of the ages lights each face
And pulses jump
With a vibrant thump
As the sky reels from the roar,
And the rafters ring
With the song I sing
To the tune of the winning score!
The song I sing is the sweetest song
Or the saddest note to the waiting throng
That the world has known through the ages dim—
With keener lilt than a battle hymn,
For my refrain
Brings joy and pain,
Where lost hopes rise and fond hopes wane,
And in my path
Sweeps a city’s wrath
Or a city’s wild acclaim,
And the planet’s ring
With the song I sing—
The song of a nation’s game!