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108 SONGS, ETC.
An angler's life has joys for me,
When blooming spring has clad the plain
Each sprey then sounds with jocund glee. For spring bring pleasure in her train.
'Tis then the angler's truest jov, To wander by the lonely stream ;
Success repays his mild employ,
And pleasure sheds her brightest beam.
His finny prey he gladly views,
The glitt'ring dace, the spangled trout,
The greedy pope, with varying hues, Together on the grass spread out.
But trolling for the tyrant pike,
He ever finds his greatest pride ; This eager fish he joys to strike, The monarch of the freshen'd tide.
The angler envies no man's joys,
But his who gains the greatest sport;
With peace he dwells far from the noise, And bustling grandeur of a court.
X M. L.
LI NES. Let others crowd the giddy court, m
Of mirth and revelry, The simple joys that angling yields
Are dearer far to me. S.