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Fishing Poem


shanksi
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Don't know who wrote it but my favourite

 

Give me a rod of split bamboo,

a rainy day and a fly or two,

a mountain stream where the eddies play,

and mists hang low o'er the winding way,

 

Give me a haunt by the furling brook,

A hidden spot in a mossy nook,

No sound save hum of the drowsy bee,

or lone bird's tap on the hollow tree.

 

The world may roll with it's busy throng,

And phantom scenes on it's way along,

It's stocks may rise, or it's stocks may fall,

Ah! What care I for it's baubles all?

 

I cast my fly o'er the troubled rill,

Luring the beauties by magic skill,

With mind at rest and a heart at ease,

And drink delight at the balmy breeze.

 

A lusty trout to my glad surprise,

Speckled and bright on the crest arise,

Then splash and plunge in a dazzling whirl,

Hope springs anew as the wavelets curl.

 

Gracefully swinging from left to right,

Action so gentle- motion so slight,.

Tempting, enticing, on craft intent,

Till yielding tip by the game is bent

 

Drawing in slowly, then letting go

Under the ripples where mosses grow

Doubting my fortune, lost in a dream,

Blessing the land of forest and stream.

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That would be Eunice Lamberton's poem "Trout fishing"

 

http://thehammockpapers.blogspot.ca/2009/12/trout-fishing-eunice-lamberton.html

 

"Rochester, N.Y.

December fifteenth, 1873

 

These lines were written on the spur of the moment at the famous pool midway between Martin's and Bartlett's on the Saranac River- Adirondacks- As Mr. Lamberton "with split bamboo and a fly or two" whipped the water. -A. B. Lamberton"

 

One significant difference from your rendition is the variation in the first line "Give me a rod of the split bamboo".

 

This one is read at funerals as a eulogy.

 

Michael

 

p.s. as a retired librarian I always rise to challenges like this. And it was easy

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Thanks Michael. I actually heard it recently at a funeral of an old friend who had fished for over 70 years and went the way he always wanted to , sitting on the river bank with a rod in his hand. Will miss our chats on the river Sandy my old friend, know your up there with the rod and a dram.

 

Ian

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Thanks Michael. I actually heard it recently at a funeral of an old friend who had fished for over 70 years and went the way he always wanted to , sitting on the river bank with a rod in his hand. Will miss our chats on the river Sandy my old friend, know your up there with the rod and a dram.

 

Ian

 

 

Sorry to here about your friend Ian and Michael I really enjoyed the read. Ian I had a close flyfishing partner pass away at 42 almost 10 years ago. I fished alone after that for many years. There were even two rivers I could not fish well without feeling very sad. Mostly because every time I went around another corner on that river I would recall and see Mickey catching another trout. And there I was landing that darn splashy thing with him. But they are fond memories no the less.

 

 

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Guest sagephreak

I to had a good fishing buddy pass away 14 years ago, my father, and to this day I still hear him say slow the damn cast down. LOL.

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