The Record
When the game is done
And the players creep,
One by one,
To the League of Sleep,
Deep in the night
They may not know
The way of the fight,
The fate of the foe;
And the cheer that passed
From applauding bands
Is stilled at last—
But the record stands.
The base hits made,
And the errors wrought;
How the game was played,
How the fight was fought;
Though the game be done
Where the night is deep
And one by one
From the field they creep;
Their day has passed
Through the twilight gates,
But the scroll is cast
And the record waits.