LITTEN with lots and lots of little moons, Broods o'er the bosky bank the guelder-rose; She watches by the river as it goes, Knowing its whispered secrets and its runes, And that it's useless in these afternoons Of midsummer; I hardly do suppose A trout had stirred just then for all our throws And feathered lures begirt of silk cocoons. But now hath come the coolth and kindliness Of eve, and we may get to work again; See, there's a bulge, and there a fish came up, And we anon shall levy toll and cess— A brace mayhap; and still before the train Have time for supper and a cider-cup! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SAVORING THE PAST by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO THE PIOUS MEMORY OF THE YOUNG LADY MRS. ANNE KILLIGREW by JOHN DRYDEN THE STENOGRAPHERS by PATRICIA KATHLEEN PAGE MR. FLOOD'S PARTY by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE SWALLOWS by AGATHIAS SCHOLASTICUS STANZAS TO M.P. by BERNARD BARTON |