Playing the Game

When Willie first began the game,
He saw but little in it,
And often wondered how he came
To let himself begin it;
But soon he learned the ball to hit
A mighty blow elastic,
And shouted at the rise of it
With yells enthusiastic.

He talked so much of hits and runs,
Of strikes and fouls and bases,
That we, the poor admiring ones,
Could hardly hold our faces;
His boasting never found an end,
His bat was always ready,
And every day he had to spend
Some hours in practice steady.

He never seemed prepared for meals,--
The game held him completely;
He kept so busy making "steals."
And running home so neatly;
And if a "home run" batted he,
We could forget it never;
His talk would all about it be
Forever and forever!

Sometimes I think that Willie's game
Is like the game life's playing:
At first we wonder how we came
Around here to be staying;
And then we find the game is worth
The stakes that humans stagger,
And anxious are to win the earth
With "home run" or "three-bagger."

We practice up from day to day
To gain applause and prizes,
And fool the precious hours away
With toilsome exercises;
Yet 'tis worth while whate'er the strife,
Whatever you are doing,
To play your best the game of life
And keep the prize pursuing.