English poem
An Idyll Of The Broads
by Darrell Figgis (1882–1925)
As on a river fair I sped,-- My boat beneath mine oars nigh flew,-- Amazed I saw a Scotsman’s head Whose form and visage well I knew.
He hailed me by my name, and I, Astonied thus to see him near, My scudding craft did thither hie With gladness, mixt withal with fear.
For with immense accoutrement He fished for fishes merrily: Elaborate, magnificent, A very king of fishers he!
His line was of the best, his rod Superb, as likewise was his float; And, scorning by his mother sod, He stood upon a varnished boat.
His mien was mighty, seriousness Lit o’er his stedfast countenance; He grasped his rod with firm caress, Anxiety in every glance.
His son lay by to render aid When salmon carried off his bait, Or whales, maybe, who nought afraid Cared nothing for his sombre state.
With reverence and thrilling throe I drew anear with slow approach;-- Yet need I not have quivered so, For all that river held was roach!