AT BROAD RIPPLE.

Ah, Luxury! Beyond the heat

And dust of town, with dangling feet,

Astride the rock below the dam,

In the cool shadows where the calm

Rests on the stream again, and all

Is silent save the waterfall,—

Bait my hook and cast my line,

And feel the best of life is mine.

No high ambition may I claim —

Angle not for lordly game

Of trout, or bass, or wary bream —

Black perch reaches the extreme

Of my desires; and “goggle-eyes”

Are not a thing that I despise;

A sunfish, or a “chub,” or “cat” —

A “silver-side” — yea, even that!

In eloquent tranquility

The waters lisp and talk to me.

Sometimes, far out, the surface breaks,

As some proud bass an instant shakes

His glittering armor in the sun,

And romping ripples, one by one,

Come dallying across the space

Where undulates my smiling face.

The river's story flowing by,

Forever sweet to ear and eye,

Forever tenderly begun —

Forever new and never done.

Thus lulled and sheltered in a shade

Where never feverish cares invade,

I bait my hook and cast my line,

And feel the best of life is mine.