General Info

Rowing Humor

Rowing Art and Movies

A Fine Balance
True Blue
How High
The Skulls
All for One

Rowing Books

Moonlit Row Through soft and dew-kissed, misty veil, With silent strokes, I swiftly sail. A glassy pool reflects my flight, The shining stars, and moon, so bright. The world is sleeping, but not I; One with water, I start to fly. None to stop me, I race with time; Internal bliss, a state sublime. Each moment sacred in my shell. The moon shares secrets I'll never tell. But Dawn will rise, and I must go. She broke the spell, my moonlit row. -Margaret Gregory

The Boat Race They are at their places, straining, Arms stretched to the oars, waiting the word, and their chests Heave, and their hearts are pumping fast; ambition And nervousness take hold of them. The signal! They shoot away; the noise goes up to the heavens, The arms pull back to the chests, the water is churned To a foam like snow; the start is very even, The sea gapes open under the rush of the beaks And the pull of the oars. The racers go no faster When the chariots take the field, and the barrier springs Cars into action, and the drivers lash Whipping and shaking the reins. Applause and shouting Volley and ring, and shrill excitement rises From some with bets on the issue; all the woodland Resounds, the shores are load, and the beaten hillside Sends back the uproar. -Virgil