Constancy

I had a dream. A throng of people sped
Hard after something that before them fled⁠—
  A ball that leapt and bounded. I pursued,
Kicking, like all the rest, at Bryan’s head.

Ah, God, it was indeed a ghastly play!
That noble head⁠—its locks in disarray
  Streaming like feathers of a shuttlecock⁠—
Urged with resounding buffets on its way.

Ever the foremost in the chase accurst
Ran Two who in his life, too, had been first
  Among his followers. “Behold,” I cried,
“Those twins of constancy, the Devil and Hearst!”

Smitten in spirit with a sudden shame.
And from intemperate exertion lame,
  I sprang, and skyward with a parting kick
Hoisted that mellow bulb, and left the game.