76 ANGLING REMINISCENCES. 



IT. 



Sing, sweet thrushes, forth and sing ! 



Have you met the honey-bee, 

 Circling upon rapid wing 



Eound the anglers' trysting-tree ? 

 Up, sweet thrushes, up and see ; 

 Are there bees at our willow tree ? 



Birds and bees at the trysting-tree ? 



in. 



Sing, sweet thrushes, forth and sing ! 



Are the fountains gushing free ? 

 Is the south wind wandering 



Thro' the anglers' trysting-tree ? 

 Up, sweet thrushes, tell to me, 

 Is the wind at our willow tree ? 



Wind or calm at the trysting-tree ? 



IV. 



Sing, sweet thrushes, up and sing ! 



Wile us, with a merry glee, 

 To the flowery haunts of spring 



To the anglers' trysting-tree ! 

 Tell, sweet thrushes, tell to me, 

 Are there flowers 'neath our willow tree ? 



Spring and flowers at the trysting-tree ? 



Otter. 'Tis a pity we have so meagre a fund of 

 good angling songs. Most of our modern poets 

 are, or have been, brethren of the streams ; and 

 yet who among them has ventured to weave us a 

 melody in honour of his favourite craft ? Scott, 

 Burns, Wilson, Wordsworth, and the Ettrick Shep- 



