Salmon Brook

By Henry David Thoreau

SALMON Brook,

            Penichook,

            Ye sweet waters of my brain,

            When shall I look,

            Or cast the hook,

            In your waves again?

           

            Silver eels,

            Wooden creels,

            These the baits that still allure,

            And dragon-fly

            That floated by,

            May they still endure?