The Softness of Sybaris

AD LYDIAM

Lydia, by the gods above,
Tell me why you aim your love
At a lad whose life was centred
In the tournaments he entered.

Now he never rides a horse;
Never goes around the course,
Never swims the Tiber River —
At athletics he's a flivver.

Once the discus he would throw;
Quoits he played; and, long ago,
Cobb was not a better batter.
... Tell me, Lydia, what's the matter?
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