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An Ode To The Observer


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Headin' up to Lesser Slave for 10 days come friday and wanted to post some wonderous words for the practioners of this art.


Mark well the various seasons of the year

How the succeeding insect race appear

In this revolving moon one colour reigns

Which in the next the fickle trout disdains


Oft have I seen a skilful angler try

The various colours of the treacherous fly

When he with fruitless pain hath skimmed the brook

And the coy fish rejects the skipping hook

He shakes the boughs,that on the margin grow

Which over the stream a waving forest throw

When if an insect fall,his certain guide

He gently takes him from the whirling tide


Examines well his form with curious eye

His gaudy vest,his wings,his horns and size

Then round his hook the chosen fur he winds

And on the back a speckled feather binds

So just the colours shine through every part

That nature seems to live again in art

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