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To you who love the lonely shade,
Where niurm'ring waters gently flow ; To you who love the silent shade, By osiers and by alders made,
When softly summer breezes blow ; Or should you line the river's tide, Or should you line the rush-fring'd side Of sedgy pool, where willows wave, And weeping birch their branches lave In the still water, where is seen Reflected bright, each vivid green : If you can love such scenes as these, A life of calm sequestered ease, And sport devoid of care and guile, Oh, live with me the angler's life, And, from the rules I now impart, With practice, learn the angler's art.
Dress not in colours bright or gay, Nor be in gaudy raiments seen, But let your garments still betray, A modest drab or sober gray,
Or darker brown, or Lincoln green ; And when you seek the river side Let not your shadow touch the tide, Lest the scared fishes shun the bait, And you in vain expectance wait.