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A Good Sport

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

I was a little lad, and the older boys called to me from the pier:

They called to me: 'Be a sport: be a sport! Leap in and swim!'

I leaped in and swam, though I had never been taught a stroke.

Then I was made a hero, and they all shouted:

'Well done! Well done,

Brave boy, you are a sport, a good sport!'

And I was very glad.

But now I wish I had learned to swim the right way,

Or had never learned at all.

Now I regret that day,

For it led to my fall.

I was a youth, and I heard the older men talking of the road to wealth;

They talked of bulls and bears, of buying on margins,

And they said, 'Be a sport, my boy, plunge in and win or lose it all!

It is the only way to fortune.'

So I plunged in and won; and the older men patted me on the back,

And they said, 'You are a sport, my boy, a good sport!'

And I was very glad.

But now I wish I had lost all I ventured on that day -

Yes, wish I had lost it all.

For it was the wrong way,

And pushed me to my fall.

I was a young man, and the gay world called me to come;

Gay women and gay men called to me, crying:

'Be a sport; be a good sport!

Fill our glasses and let us fill yours.

We are young but once; let us dance and sing,

And drive the dull hours of night until they stand at bay

Against the shining bayonets of day.'

So I filled my glass, and I filled their glasses, over and over again,

And I sang and danced and drank, and drank and danced and sang,

And I heard them cry, 'He is a sport, a good sport!'

As they held their glasses out to be filled again.

And I was very glad.

Oh the madness of youth and song and dance and wine,

Of woman's eyes and lips, when the night dies in the arms of dawn!

And now I wish I had not gone that way.

Now I wish I had not heard them say,

'He is a sport, a good sport!'

For I am old who should be young.

The splendid vigour of my youth I flung

Under the feet of a mad, unthinking throng.

My strength went out with wine and dance and song;

Unto the winds of earth I tossed like chaff,

With idle jest and laugh,

The pride of splendid manhood, all its wealth

Of unused power and health -

Its dream of looking into some pure girl's eyes

And finding there its earthly paradise -

Its hope of virile children free from blight -

Its thoughts of climbing to some noble height

Of great achievement -all these gifts divine

I cast away for song and dance and wine.

Oh, I have been a sport, a good sport;

But I am very sad.