09 December 2009
Trout Fishing, Eunice Lamberton
Give me a rod of the split bamboo,
a rainy day and a fly or two,
a mountain stream where the eddies play,
and mists hang low o'er the winding way,
Give me a haunt by the furling brook,
A hidden spot in a mossy nook,
No sound save hum of the drowsy bee,
or lone bird's tap on the hollow tree.
The world may roll with it's busy throng,
And phantom scenes on it's way along,
It's stocks may rise, or it's stocks may fall,
Ah! What care I for it's baubles all?
I cast my fly o'er the troubled rill,
Luring the beauties by magic skill,
With mind at rest and a heart at ease,
And drink delight at the balmy breeze.
A lusty trout to my glad surprise,
Speckled and bright on the crest arise,
Then splash and plunge in a dazzling whirl,
Hope springs anew as the wavelets curl.
Gracefully swinging from left to right,
Action so gentle- motion so slight,.
Tempting, enticing, on craft intent,
Till yielding tip by the game is bent
Drawing in slowly, then letting go
Under the ripples where mosses grow
Doubting my fortune, lost in a dream,
Blessing the land of forest and stream.
December fifteenth, 1873
These lines were written on the spur of the moment at the famous pool midway between Martin's and Bartlett's on the Saranac River- Adirondacks- As Mr. Lamberton "with split bamboo and a fly or two" whipped the water. -A. B. Lamberton