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Home  »  An American Anthology, 1787–1900  »  1096 An Angler’s Wish

Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.

By HenryVan Dyke

1096 An Angler’s Wish

I

WHEN tulips bloom in Union Square,

And timid breaths of vernal air

Go wandering down the dusty town,

Like children lost in Vanity Fair;

When every long, unlovely row

Of westward houses stands aglow,

And leads the eyes towards sunset skies

Beyond the hills where green trees grow,—

Then weary seems the street parade,

And weary books, and weary trade:

I ’m only wishing to go a-fishing;

For this the month of May was made.

II

I guess the pussy-willows now

Are creeping out on every bough

Along the brook; and robins look

For early worms behind the plough.

The thistle-birds have changed their dun

For yellow coats, to match the sun;

And in the same array of flame

The dandelion show’s begun.

The flocks of young anemones

Are dancing round the budding trees:

Who can help wishing to go a-fishing

In days as full of joy as these?

III

I think the meadow-lark’s clear sound

Leaks upward slowly from the ground,

While on the wing the blue-birds ring

Their wedding-bells to woods around.

The flirting chewink calls his dear

Behind the bush; and very near,

Where water flows, where green grass grows,

Song-sparrows gently sing, “Good cheer.”

And, best of all, through twilight’s calm

The hermit-thrush repeats his psalm.

How much I ’m wishing to go a-fishing

In days so sweet with music’s balm!

IV

’T is not a proud desire of mine;

I ask for nothing superfine;

No heavy weight, no salmon great,

To break the record—or my line:

Only an idle little stream,

Whose amber waters softly gleam,

Where I may wade, through woodland shade,

And cast the fly, and loaf, and dream:

Only a trout or two, to dart

From foaming pools, and try my art:

No more I ’m wishing—old-fashioned fishing,

And just a day on Nature’s heart.