the bowling of a ghost, And I look through my tears on a soundless-clapping host As the run stealers flicker to and fro, To and fro: O my Hornby and my Barlow long ago! Not long before his death and long after he had watched Hornby and Barlow bat at Old Trafford, Thompson was invited to watch Lancashire play Middlesex at Lord's. As the day of the match grew closer, Thompson became increasingly nostalgic. At the end, he did not go for the match, but sat at home and wrote At Lord's. The original match in 1878 ended in a draw, with Gloucestershire needing 111 to win with five wickets in hand, Grace 58*. The first stanza of the poem has contributed the titles of at least three books on cricket: G. D. Martineau's The field is full of shades Eric Midwinter's history of Lancashire cricket Red roses crest the caps R. H. Young's Field Full of Shades. A personal history of Claverham (Yatton) Cricket Club. The first stanza is also quoted in full by Count Bronowsky in Paul Scott's Raj Quartet novel The Day of the Scorpion. Punch on William Scotton The satirical magazine Punch printed the following poem following a particularly slow and boring innings by William Scotton. It mimicked Tennyson's "Break, break, break". Block, block, block At the foot of thy wicket, O Scotton! And I would that my tongue would utter My boredom. You won't put the pot on! Oh, nice for the bowler, my boy, That each ball like a barndoor you play! Oh, nice for yourself, I suppose, That you stick at the wicket all day! And the clock's slow hands go on, And you still keep up your sticks; But oh! for the lift of a smiting hand, And the sound of a swipe for six! Block, block, block, At the foot of thy wicket, ah do! But one hour of Grace or Walter Read Were worth a week of you! Alfred Mynn When Alfred Mynn died in 1861, William Jeffrey Prowse penned a poem in his memory. The first six stanzas compare Mynn with his contemporaries and the poem closes with these lines: With his tall and stately presence, with his nobly moulded form, His broad hand was ever open, his brave heart was ever warm; All were proud of him, all loved him. As the changing seasons pass, As our champion