Silence! stir not! for a whisper
     Would affright thy pretty prey;
Not a motion, little lisper,
     Else the fish will glide away.

Hush! he's coming! he is swimming
     Slowly round and round the bait;
Steady! though thine eye is brimming
     Full of mirth that will not wait.

And thy brother near thee kneeling
     Fears to hear thy ringing shout;
Gently! near and nearer stealing
     Comes the brightly spotted trout.

There! thy hook has caught him surely;
     Firmly hold thy slender rod;
Pull away! and then securely
     Place him on the grassy sod.

'Neath the green boughs rustling o'er you,
     Fish away the livelong day;
And with evening's star before you,
     Wander home at twilight gray.


This poem is in the public domain.