Babe Ruth Sonnet by Connor F.

Standing at the plate he called the hit.

The crowd roared as he stepped up to the plate.

Looking down to the ground he proudly spit,

For in this hit their breath he would take.

Standing strong he raised his hand,

The crowd was silent, not even a stir.

All the crowd was at a stand,

For now, history was about to occur.

The pitch came, and it came hard,

He launched his hands through the ball.

Just from the crack you could tell it went far,

While running, he knew this was over the wall.

From this at bat a legend, a hero was made,

To some he was the Great Bambino, but to most, the babe.