Classic Poem

Time was, my William, when I had vivacity;
Or ever came this sanguinary strife,
Mine was a crescent, widening capacity
For what is not infrequently called Life.

Time was when every afternoon fair-weathery
I might be found, from spring to early fall,
Observing hurlers chuck the spheroid leathery —
In brief, I loved to watch a game of ball.

Senescent am I now, and full of youthlessness;
And at your Hunnish head I cast the blame:
Since you established schrecklichkeit , or ruthlessness,
I haven't gone to see a single game.

And since your savage, terrible portentousness
Began to affright the celebrated world,
I've failed to feel a fraction of momentousness
In how or in by whom the pill is hurled.

Sue then for peace! And let the skies be fair again!
The Polo Grounds' most ardent, eager tenant
Was I. ... And, William, how I yearn to care again
About such things as who will win the pennant!