AH! what an azure day! Beneath the granite gray The sulky ferox lay And waved a fin; Above his surly head The amber river sped, Shrunk in its summer bed, Limpid and thin. We heard the eddies lisp; Deep in the heather crisp We lay to watch Canisp And Suilven blue; Between their crags, behold, A sheet of polished gold, Where Fewn drew fold by fold Her waters through. "Hopeless the gray fly's wiles! Our dusky ferox smiles; We have trudged for miles and miles In vain, in vain; Better the storm that fills The thunder-coloured rills, Better the shrouded hills And drifts of rain!" But "No! ah! no!" I cried; "This lovely mountain-side, In faintest purple dyed And golden gray, Will live in vision still When nerves forget to thrill, When hands have lost the skill To play and slay!" But still he watched the sky With discontented eye, For never a cloud was nigh, Nor stormy flag; Noon fell to afternoon, Till, like a change of tune, The delicate virgin moon Stepped from the crag. So, through that sleepy weather, Our rods and we together Lay on the springing heather, Assuaged at last, And now, through memory's haze, Best of our fishing days Seems just that cloudless blaze, With never a cast. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LAMENT FOR CULLODEN by ROBERT BURNS ROBERT GOULD SHAW by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE YEAR'S AWAKENING by THOMAS HARDY MISGIVINGS (1860) by HERMAN MELVILLE THE SMALL CELANDINE by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |