. Debita Flacco. Echoes of Ode and Epode . as I should be, no doubt. Had I been born a Salmon Troutâ To dainties delicately cooked ; God knows how soon I should get hooked ! Upon the terrace see me stand, Bag shouldered, landing-net in hand, Th etceteras of an Anglers store All carefully accounted for. As I stretch out my twelve-foot rod, Its top joint seems to spring and nod, As if it longed to feel again A five-pound fishs well-known strain. My Spaniel, eager for the hunt Of moorhens, scampers on in front. Returning ever and anon To make sure I am coming on ; Once through the gate, he doubts
. Debita Flacco. Echoes of Ode and Epode . as I should be, no doubt. Had I been born a Salmon Troutâ To dainties delicately cooked ; God knows how soon I should get hooked ! Upon the terrace see me stand, Bag shouldered, landing-net in hand, Th etceteras of an Anglers store All carefully accounted for. As I stretch out my twelve-foot rod, Its top joint seems to spring and nod, As if it longed to feel again A five-pound fishs well-known strain. My Spaniel, eager for the hunt Of moorhens, scampers on in front. Returning ever and anon To make sure I am coming on ; Once through the gate, he doubts no moie. But gleeful rushes off at score, And ere I reach the waters edge Is lost in reed and sludge and sedge. The breeze falls light as I begin ; I see no symptom of a fin. As reach on reach from shore to shore Secundian arteiii I explore. Until at last I find a fool Expectant in the Ampress pool. Here let me pause, and so cut short\ain chronicles of lonely sport ;They are but idle boasts at bestThat run no risk of wholesome test,p. I07 Day follows day in varying rank, Good, middling, fair, vexatious, blank, Until September, swart and ripe. Brings me in contact with the Snipe. The Snipe ! There is no bird that flies. All round whom I more highly prize ; For he is rare, the little brute. And somewhat difficult to shoot. And more than aught that draweth breath Companionable after death. How grateful ought I not to be To him and the Salmonidas ! They stand me in right noble stead Till half Octobers days are sped, And chill, and gloom, and flood, and gale, Put marsh and stream beyond the pale. But two months thus remain, my dear,For us out of our model something twere for you and meTo watch the Earth, in company,Like a live thing accepting her vast wings to hibernate,Just as we watched from March to MayHer opening plumes their breadth comfort would there be to gleanEen from grey Winters prim routine ;The gardening plans, the short brisk
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