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ON ANGLING. |
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How I do envy those two tiny boys, Prankt up with hazel-rod and corduroys,
Who, stealing all along the grassy ledge, Are simple fishers of the lazy Lea ;
I am not fit to seek this quiet sedge,— The natural Walton faileth all in me! I shy the strangei, and the idler,—I,— I court to see the gazer pass me by ;
I shun to bait When passing labourers wait, I long to cross and find some friendly gate,
Or hedge. T^pause—and fret—and drain my leathern cup,
And put my tackle up ! How is't that all my simple arts and joys
Descend upon these boys ? Do—make me, Walton, like thee, meek and mild— Pure as a man and happy as a child. |
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THE RUD.
The Rud, a kind of roach, all ting'd with gold, Strong, broad, and thick, most lovely to behold ; High on the surface will with freedom bite At small red worms, or flies, his like delight ; But, angler, when you've hook'd|him, then take care, He struggles long, and breaks the single hair.
Moses Buowne. |
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