Rays vs. Royals GDT 3: A final hero returns

Break, break, break
On thy bright red threads, O seams!
And I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that arise in me.

O, well for the farm boy,
that the scouts sings of his play!
O, well for the pitching lad,
who ranks a top prospect of his day!

And the stately seasons go on
To the annals on Cooper's hill;
But O for the touch of a slow'd fastball,
And the whiz of a voice that is still!

Break, break, break
From the calloused fingers, O seams!
But the tender grace of a hope that is dead
Will never come back to me!