The Brownies at Lawn-Tennis

One evening as the woods grew dark, The Brownies wandered through a park. And soon a building, quaint and small, Appeared to draw the gaze of all. Said one: "This place contains, no doubt, The tools of workmen hereabout." Another said: "You're quite astray, The workmen's tools are miles away; Within this building may be found The fixtures for the tennis ground. A meadow near, both long and wide, For half the year is set aside, And marked with many a square and court, For those who love the royal sport. On afternoons assembled there, The active men and maidens fair Keep up the game until the day Has faded into evening gray." "In other lands than those we tread, I played the game," another said, "And proved my skill and muscle stout, As 'server' and as 'striker-out.' The lock that hangs before us there Bears witness to the keeper's care, And tramps or burglars might go by, If such a sign should meet the eye. But we, who laugh at locks or law Designed to keep mankind in awe, May praise the keeper's cautious mind, But all the same an entrance find."

Ere long, the path that lay between The building and the meadow green, Was crowded with the bustling throng, All bearing implements along; Some lugging stakes or racket sets, And others buried up in nets. To set the posts and mark the ground The proper size and shape around, With service-line and line of base, And courts, both left and right, in place, Was work that caused but slight delay; And soon the sport was under way. And then a strange and stirring scene Was pictured out upon the green.