Seaside Golf, a celebration from Betjamin.


I regularly return to this life affirming poem from the great English poet John Betjamin, it's simplicity and joy show the beauty of playing golf on the links (seaside) golf courses of Britain.


Seaside Golf

How straight it flew, how long it flew

It cleared

the rutty track

And soaring disappeared from view

Beyond the bunker's back -

A glorious, sailing, bounding drive

That made me glad I was alive.


And down the fairway, far along

It glowed a lonely white;

I played an iron sure and strong

And clipped it out of sight,

And spite of grassy banks between

I knew I'd find it on the green.


And so I did, it lay content

Two paces from the pin;

A steady putt and then it went

Oh, most securely in.

The very turf rejoiced to see

That quite unprecedented three.


Ah! Seaweed smells from sandy caves

And thyme and mist in whiffs,

In-coming tide, Atlantic waves

Slapping sunny cliffs,

Lark song and sea sounds in the air

And splendour, splendour everywhere.

John Betjamin

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