Youth who tug wearily your cricket bag home
Be not discouraged by its weight
And the long walk ahead.
All your mornings of six o’clock nets,
Be it hot or cold,
All your exercises and all your hopes
May come to nothing more than
A regular place in some unknown club side--
Your goal may remain to you as distant
As to all those cynical,world-weary office-goers,
Thankful for the passage of another dreary day,
But be not shy to let them gaze at you,
Clad in grubby whites and vibrant endeavour,
And wonder,half grudgingly,
Half admiringly,
At one who lives for his dreams.
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