68 AN ANGLER'S BASKET. 



And if misfortune's direful brand 

 Should strain Life's line a single strand- 

 Oh ! gentle be the stern command 



To death's dark night ; 

 May sorrows fall like angler's hand, 



E'en just as light ! 



MY ROD AND I. 



My rod and I are ancient friends, 



Long years we've held together, 

 Thrpugh life's bewild'ring odds and ends,, 



But most in cloudy weather ; 

 And, angler-like, both keen and true, 



In all good service ready ; 

 In blustering storm, or cloudless blue, 



Our friendship's firm and steady. 



And oft my faithful rod and I 



Have tramped with silk and feather, 

 When merry birds sang in the sky, 



By woodland and by heather ; 

 And when we part, as part we must, 



And lifelong friendship sever, 

 Old Time may turn me into dust, 



Till then we're friends for ever. 



