Once, men came home from war,
or from the sides of family graves,
to lace up skates and play for it
as if everything could be remade
in a silver bowl passed hand to hand.
For years it etched the seasons
with their winning names,
and took the touch of triumph
into each triumphant house. It paused
just once – to mourn the dead, and
stayed unmarked to mark their passing.
Today, left idle in the Hall of Fame,
while rich men quarrel to no profit at its base,
untouched upon its plinth it stands.
And all who see it can tell you now
how a fallen thing is one that no one holds.
COURTESY OF http://chat.mapleleafs.com/index.php?showtopic=47587
RESPONSE: This poem was a very interesting poem because it shows you the hard work and glory in the game of hockey. This poem means a lot to me because hockey is one of my favorite sports.
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