My First Golf Cup – Golf Poetry

MY FIRST GOLF CUP 
I TOOK it home with me, and on the way 
I carried it with tender, loving pride; 
It meant so much to me, for, strange to say, 
The crimson bag a golf cup held inside. 
I was not in the first flight — not at all! 
The humble fourth contained my modest name; 
And yet no champion follower of the ball 
E'er struggled harder on the road to fame. 
I kept the faith! No Scotch, not even when 
I labored moistly through a soggy rain; 
Each night in bed just as the clock struck ten, 
In order that my nerves might stand the strain. 
Each match hard fought, and when the round was done, 
I felt exceeding joy within my soul. 
I nearly fainted when at last I won 
My final match upon the eighteenth hole. 
To me that cup looked tall as Eiffel tower! 
It shone resplendent as the noonday sun; 
Nor costliest jewel in my lady's bower 
Was half so radiant to look upon.
But when at home I placed that cup on view, 
Running the gantlet of three pairs of eyes, 
I heard this comment: "Honestly, did you
Work three whole days to get this dinky prize? 
Henry Litchfield West in Lyrics of the Links, published in 1921.

Henry Litchfield West (1859 – 1940) was an American journalist and politician. He served as the political editor of the Washington Post.