Classic Poem

I.

O' ER the lynns of Glendevon, the dark trees hang crowded,
While unseen whirl the waters below;
'Mid spray and thick foliage an angler enshrouded
Waves his wand — waves his wand to and fro.

II.

In the lynns of Glendevon, from deep crevice stealing,
The hungry trout watches its prey,
And when 'mid the white foam some stray fly lies wheeling,
Slyly bears — slyly bears it away.

III.

Alas! among morsels the sweetest and rarest,
That float down the streams of the brake,
Deceits ever mingle, in colours the fairest,
Capturing those — capturing those who partake.

IV.

'Tis thus in this bright world, at joys without measure
Unheeding we ardently spring,
And forget that oft hid by the plumage of pleasure,
Lies a hook — lies a hook in the wing.