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ON ANGLING. |
89 |
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Gladly with thee I pace along, And of sweet fancies dream ; Waiting till some inspired song, Within my memory cherished long, Comes fairer forth, With more of worth, Because that time upon the stream, Feathers and chaff will bear away, But gives the gems a brighter ray. |
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THE ANGLER.
O'er moorland and mountain, rude, barren and bare,
When angling and wearied I roam ; A gentle young damsel espies my despair,
And leads me by streams to her home.
True neatness and order her cottage had crown'd, Green rushes were strew'd on the floor ;
Her casement sweet woodbines crept wantonly round, And deck'd the sod seats at the door.
I told my soft wishes; she sweetly replied,
(Ye virgins, her voice was divine ! ) "I've rich ones rejected, and great ones denied,
Yet take me, fond angler—I'm thine." |
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