FOR vacant hours of man's destructive leisure Were sports invented of the barbarous kind; But tempt not me to share thy cruel pleasure -- No sports are guiltless to the feeling mind. And thou, who know'st the charms of lettered taste, Whose treasured memory classic stores commands, Shalt thou thy valuable moments waste, Sauntering by streams with fish-rods in thy hands? Shall I, who cultivate the Muse's lays, And pay my homage at Apollo's shrine, Shall I to torpid angling give my days, And change poetic wreaths for fishing-line? Sit like a statue by the placid lake, My mind suspended on a gudgeon's fate; Transported if the silly fish I take, Chagrined and weary, if it shuns the bait? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A DEAD LOVER by LOUISE BOGAN CONTRA MORTEM: THE FALL by HAYDEN CARRUTH CONTRA MORTEM: THE VILLAGE by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE AUDACIOUS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE LITTLE PEOPLES by CLAUDE MCKAY THE GREAT HUNT by CARL SANDBURG |