| Oh!
I played at golf once on a beautiful day,
O’er a green round the marge of a wide sweeping bay,
Where the sea lay in calm, like a babe when at rest,
In a sweet dreamless sleep on a fond mother’s breast.
The course it was perfect,
for both Nature and Art
Had vied with each other which would best do her part,
And the game that I played, well, the like was ne’er seen
By the eye of a mortal before on the green.
Excerpt from “Perfection” by
John Thomson
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