And to the shelving shore slow dragging some,
With various hand proportion'd to their force.
If yet too young, and easily deceived,
A worthless prey scarce bends your pliant rod,
Him, piteous of his youth, and the short space
He has enjoy'd the vital light of heaven,
Soft disengage, and back into the stream
The speckled infant throw. But should you lure
From his dark haunt, beneath the tangled roots
Of pendent trees, the monarch of the brook,
Behooves you then to ply your finest art.
Long time he, following cautious, scans the fly;
And oft attempts to seize it, but as oft
The dimpled water speaks his jealous fear.
At last, while haply o'er the shaded sun
Passes a cloud, he desperate takes the death,
With sullen plunge. At once he darts along,
Deep-struck, and runs out all the lengthened line;
Then seeks the farthest ooze, the sheltering weed,
The cavern'd bank, his old secure abode;
And flies aloft, and flounces round the pool,
Indignant of the guile. With yielding hand,
That feels him still, yet to his furious course
Gives way, you, now retiring, following now
Across the stream, exhaust his idle rage,
Till, floating broad upon his breathless side,
And to his fate abandon'd, to the shore
You gaily drag your unresisting prize.
When the redeyes bite,
Down along the little stream,
Where the quiet pools are waiting,
And the singing riffles gleam,
Where the angler seeks the outdoors
With a thrill of new delight,
As he finds again the old haunts
Where the redeyes bite.
When the redeyes bite,
And the baited line will shoot
With a sort of zigzag jerking
Down among the willow root,
Where a big old husky fellow
That is hooked and full of fight,
Has opened up the season
When the redeyes bite.
When the redeyes bite,
With the city far behind,
Just a day of plain old fishing
Where the rippling waters wind,
As they lure the care-free angler
From the early dawn till night,
To the shady pools and driftwood,
Where the redeyes bite!
Permission of "Field and Stream."
THE REAL BAIT
To gentle ways I am inclined;
I have no wish to kill.
To creatures dumb I would be kind;
I like them all, but still
Right now I think I'd like to be
Beside some rippling brook,
And grab a worm I'd brought with me
And slip him on a hook.
I'd like to put my hand once more
And turn those squirmy creatures o'er
Like nuggets in a pan;
And for a big one, once again,
With eager eyes I'd look,
As did a boy I knew, and then
Impale it on a hook.
I've had my share of fishing joy,
I've fished with patent bait,
With chub and minnow, but the boy
Is lord of sport's estate.
And no such pleasure comes to man
So rare as when he took
A worm from a tomato can
And slipped it on a hook.
I'd like to gaze with glowing eyes
Upon that precious bait,
To view each fat worm as a prize
To be accounted great.
From "A Heap o' Livin'." Copyrighted by and permission from Reilly & Lee Co.
A FISHERMAN IN TOWN
I jest set here a-dreamin'-
A-dreamin' every day,
Of the sunshine that's a-gleamin'
On the rivers-fur away;
An' I kinder fall to wishin'
I was where the waters swish;
Fer if the Lord made fishin',
Why a feller orter fish!
While I'm studyin', or writin',
In the dusty, rusty town,
I kin feel the fish a-bitin'-
See the cork a-goin' down!
An' the sunshine seems a-tanglin
Of the shadows, cool an' sweet;
With the honeysuckles danglin',
An' the lilies at my feet!
So, I nod, an' fall to wishin'
I was where the waters swish;
Fer if the Lord made fishin',
Why a feller orter fish!
Printed in and permission from "The Atlanta Constitution."
SPRING IS ON THE WIRE
When wistful, balmy breezes whisper to you in the air, And breath of green grass growing finds its way o'er building tops,
And ghosts of apple blossoms drift in from the vague somewhere,
You know that Spring is nearing by these little hints she drops.
Oh to be a kid again,
Do the things you did again,
And shake from off your weary shoulders Time's increasing load;
Tramp with sun-tanned feet again
Free as air to greet again
The olden golden sunshine spread along the dusty road.
you should not have raised that window and let Spring Fever in
She's at the old transmitter and she's sent a call for
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