Classic Poem

I.

A JOLLY craft have we, hurra!
The brethren of the streams!
In joy we pass the welcome day,
And close it under dreams.
We wander by the river-side
And by the gentle rill!
They roll along the valley wide —
They gambol on the hill.

II.

It is a manly one and free,
This pleasant sport of ours;
Above us is the shady tree
And under us the flowers;
And in our hand the pliant rod
Is waving to and fro —
The salmon lies upon the sod,
Glittering like the snow.

III.

We love the angler's quiet lot,
His meditative art;
The fancies in his hour of thought
That blossom from his heart.
All other things we'll cast behind,
Let busy toil alone,
And flinging care unto the wind,
We'll angle, angle on.