ST. PETER was a fisherman, a fisherman was he, He killed his fish right handsomely in gentle Galilee, As you and I would do, my friend, from Severn unto Dee! He always acted sportsmanlike though Luck she scowled or laughed, He'd throw into a ten-knot breeze as though it blew abaft, And you and I are proud to be of that his ancient craft! It's not in any book I've read—but still it may have been That you have perched beside his lines, so shiny-eyed and keen, A little apt disciple in a coat of blue and green! And since he @3was@1 a fisherman, the brightest bird that flies He vowed to other fishermen who cast 'neath colder skies, To light their river-banks, that they his name might recognize! Oh, I was up last Saturday by Thames's amber brown, While yet the oak and elm they wore the night's grave misty gown, And saw you like an emerald go flashing up and down! And as it seemed for fishermen that life was passing good, I lit a little candle at St. Peter's-in-the-Wood, Or if I didn't actually, I think he understood! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SUMMER SHIRT SALE by CARL SANDBURG THE BEST [THING IN THE WORLD] by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING IPHIGENEIA AND AGAMEMNON, FR. THE HELLENICS by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR ON THE DEATH OF A METAPHYSICIAN by GEORGE SANTAYANA THE HOLLY TREE by ROBERT SOUTHEY THE TWO APRIL MORNINGS by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |