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