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SONfaS, IiTC. |
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GLEE. 'Tis life to voting anglers in early spring time,
In the spring time ail so fair, Through the meadows to go where primroses grow,
A-breathing the mild air. When the butterfly comes and the great bee hums,
Round the sallow bush gosling-clad ; Aud a tweet, tweet, go the. little birds sweet,
Then the heart of the angler is glad.
*Tis life to young anglers in high summer days,
In the summer days all so line, Ail blythe to be laid in the green, green shade,
Or bask in the broad sunshine ; When the hawk sails high in the grey, grey sky,
With dark clouds thinly clad ; And the merry flies brisk on the warm well frisk,
Then the heart of the angler is glad. |
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ANGLING.
Angling, and free, for pleasure born,
Dull, sentimental fools I scorn ;
At random with the stream 1 flow,
And ply my art where'er I go.
From stream to stream I bend my way,
Where i can fish, and sing, and play ;
Short be my reign—and c ist the die,
When I discard my rod and fly. York. K. |
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