English poem
A Fisherman
by Alice Cary (1820–1871)
A fisherman leaned on a clapboard gate He was often used to pass; ’Twas sunset, and two little boys Were playing on the grass.
The watchdog by the door-stone sat, And bayed the rising moon, And the mother milked her cow and sung An old and pleasant tune.
The children left their play and ran, And, leaning on her knee, She milked the milk into their mouths, Laughing with girlish glee.
And as she carried her frothy pail Slow to the rustic door, One little one held at her skirt behind, And the other one before.
She stopped, and hugging both their heads Against her loving breast, They looked like two bright little birds A-peeping from one nest.
The sunburnt fisher went his way, Sighing, alas, alas! It was not for the little boys That played upon the grass.
And when he came where cold gray stones Were standing, many a pair, He put his net from his shoulder down,— His little boy was there.