C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
An Angler’s Wish
By Henry van Dyke (1852–1933)
And timid breaths of vernal air
Go wandering down the dusty town,
Like children lost in Vanity Fair;
Of westward houses stands aglow,
And leads the eyes toward sunset skies
Beyond the hills where green trees grow;
And weary books, and weary trade:
I’m only wishing to go a-fishing,—
For this the month of May was made.
Are creeping out on every bough
Along the brook; and robins look
For early worms behind the plow.
For yellow coats, to match the sun;
And in the same array of flame
The Dandelion Show’s begun.
Are dancing round the budding trees:
Who can help wishing to go a-fishing
In days as full of joy as these?
Leaks upward slowly from the ground,
While on the wing the bluebirds ring
Their wedding-bells to woods around.
Behind the bush; and very near,
Where water flows, where green grass grows,
Song-sparrows gently sing, “Good cheer.”
The hermit-thrush repeats his psalm:
How much I’m wishing to go a-fishing
In days so sweet with music’s balm!
I ask for nothing superfine;
No heavy weight, no salmon great,
To break the record, or my line:
Whose amber waters softly gleam,
Where I may wade, through woodland shade,
And cast the fly, and loaf and dream;
From foaming pools, and try my art:
No more I’m wishing—old-fashioned fishing,
And just a day on Nature’s heart.