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ON ANGLING. |
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Frae 'neath the weed a gowden gleam
Flash'd frae his burnish'd side, And at the hook a boil is seen
That scarcely stirs the tide ; The bendin' gad wV stricken'd line,
Shug-shuggin' like a wand, A' workin' on a thread sae fine,
Yet brings him safe to land.
There ne'er was aught in nature seen
Whose colour could outvie The glitter o' its side sae green,
Bathed in the rainbow's dye. The olive back, the gowden fin,
The belly's silver hue, A' spread upon a pinkie skin,
That scarcely blushes through.
The mottled drops that mantle far
Out owre his spangled scale, A' glist'nin' like the gorgeous star
That gems the peacock's tail. A fishing day by dam or weir
Could aye my feelings bind, And muckle in't there is to cheer
A nature-loving mind. |
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