This article needs additional citations for verification. Please help improve this article by adding citations to reliable sources. Unsourced material may be challenged and removed. One of the most famous [9] pieces of nostalgic rose-tinted poems is Vitaï Lampada by Sir Henry Newbolt. You have two sides, one out in the field and one in. Each man that's in the side that's in goes out, and when he's out he comes in and the next man goes in until he's out. When they are all out, the side that's out comes in and the side thats been in goes out and tries to get those coming in, out. Sometimes you get men still in and not out. Here is how elemental it is. Still, today, I will sometimes be walking along on the road or driving somewhere, and I will be muttering under my breath the stream of consciousness monologue that I speak while batting. The entire monologue is an act of deep concentration, a game of trying to read the bowler, trying to predict his next move, trying to psyche myself up to deal with each ball bowled…

Life buzzing beneath methough my feeling says the hive is gone, queen gone,the continuum continuing beneath, busy, earnest, in con-versation. Plenty have sighed about the biscuit-tin jingoism of this work, which urged the soldiers of the Empire to “Play up, play up and play the game!” but it didn’t do the author any harm: he went on to become Controller of Propaganda in World War I.The absolute best thing children love to do is set them free after getting a glimpse into their lives. And when she mentions nine gates, one is reminded that the human and animal bodies also have nine gates, or openings. The eyes, ears, nose, mouth, and the organs of procreation and elimination. Now, it may not have been her intent to indicate this line of reasoning, but such is poetry. Subject to a diverse array of meanings, peculiar to the individual reader. That morning the soldier, his eyes fierylike blood in a wound, his purpose brutalas if facing a battle, hurried with his answeras if to the Sphinx. The Victory Calypso" also immortalised the spin bowling pair of Sonny Ramadhin and Alf Valentine. The calypso begins thus:

Next they came to a lake where laytwelve boats with twelve enchanted princeswaiting to row them to the underground castle. Twice a Week the Winter Thorough Twice a week the winter thorough Here stood I to keep the goal: Football then was fighting sorrow For the young man's soul. I agree with what I have written above in my earlier review but I did concentrate on one thing that I notice I did not mention previously and perhaps it was just as well for I might just have downgraded my assessment to a two-star rating. The editor has one of his own poems in the selection, 'Still Going Strong' and it is about Joe Hardstaff [junior] who was one of the most elegant batsmen for Nottinghamshire in the 1930s. The poem includes an amusing quote from the batsman about facing "Lol" [Harold Larwood], 'The fastest bowler' in the nets but even so 'Joe modelled Stillness/before lips curved up in a sweet/just-so smile as the ball/dropped safely at his feet.' I must say that even though he was before my time I always regarded Joe Hardstaff as the suave epitome of elegance.If the wild bowler thinks he bowls, Or if the batsman thinks he's bowled, They know not, poor misguided souls, They too shall perish unconsoled. I am the batsman and the bat, I am the bowler and the ball, The umpire, the pavilion cat, The roller, pitch, and stumps, and all. [12]