Bard Marchand: You fight by th' book.

Bard Marchand, well known poet, was heavily moved the other night when Patrice Bergeron fought former teammate Blake Wheeler. So moved, in fact, that he had to write about it. Here is an excerpt from his latest work.

BERGERON

(dropping BERGERON's gloves) If I profane with my unworthiest hand

This holy shrine, the gritty sin is right:

My fists, two smiling draftees, ready stand

To rough that soft touch with a tender fight.

WHEELER

Good rookie, you do wrong your hand too much,

Which mannerly devotion shows in light,

For stars have sticks that fighters' hands do touch,

And puck to goal is elite scorers' fight.

BERGERON

Have not stars hands, and elite scorers too?

WHEELER

Ay, rookie, hands that they must use in goals.

BERGERON

O, then, all star, let fists do what pucks do.

They score; grant thou, lest lead turn to despair.

WHEELER

Stars do not move, though grant for scorers' sake.

BERGERON

Then move not, while my scoring’s effect I take.

Punches him

Thus from my fists, by thine, my win is purged.

WHEELER

Then have my fists the win that they have took.

BERGERON

Win from thy fists? O trespass sweetly urged!

Give me my win again.

They punch again

WHEELER

You fight by th' book.