Classic Poem

I.

Good cheer! brother angler, say,
Is the swift salmon abroad to-day?
Have you noted the flash of his silv'ry mail,
Or the proud free curl of his glitt'ring tail?
Hath he sprung at the winsome fly,
Smitten by the treacherous feather,
Heedless of the steel and tether
And of human subtlety?

II.

Alas! brother angler, nay!
Salmon none have I stirred to-day —
Feint, frolic nor dart have I beheld,
But round me the wily dark trout bell'd;
One in greed and one in scorn,
And a third one out of pleasure
Sprang at my fly. See all the treasure
Ta'en by me this livelong morn!

III.

Ply on, brother angler! hark!
The grey wind warbles across the park;
It ruffles the water from bank to bank,
And shakes the green covert of rushes lank.
See how it paces round and round,
Wild of foot — with step unsteady,
Dancing on the amorous eddy
To a low, uncertain sound!

IV.

Ply on, brother angler! deep
Under the rapids the bright fins sweep,
And the salmon holdeth his secret track
O'er ledges of rock, through fissure black.
Oh! most hath an angler need
Of sweet patience and of plodding;
For the good wand ever nodding
Better than cunning bringeth speed!