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SONGS, ETC. |
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ANGLING.
The waters, the waters, how clearly they flow, And how softly and balmy the summer winds blow ; There are joys in the chase where the red fox doth flee, There are joys on the turf where the fleet coursers be, But the waters, the waters of Avon for me.
The waters, the waters, their murmurs are sweet, And their banks, their swift ripples, delighted I greet, The hill and the dale with wild huntsmen agree, With the archer the green sward, the sailor the sea, But the waters, the waters for anglers and me.
The waters, the waters, o'crshadow'd with leaves, And cool'd by the ev'ning, and fann'd by the breeze r Are my sun.set companions adown by the lea, When the scenes of my childhood delighted I see, And sing, Oh, the waters, the waters for me. |
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TO THE MAY FLY OF THE ANGLER.
Thou art a frail and lovely thing,
Engender'd by the sun ; A moment only on the wing
And thy career is done.
Thou sportest in the ev'ning beam
An hour—an age to thee— In gaiety above the stream,
Which soon thv grave must be. |
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