344 AN ANGLER'S RAMBLES 



in. 



Now wintry winds with furious pace 

 O'er moor and mountain sally, 



And gloomily the waters race 

 Through each deserted valley. 



IV. 



No longer birds in merry strain 

 Sing from their bowers of beauty ; 



Lay down the wand ! the spring again 

 Will call it forth for duty. 



v. 



Lay down the wand no longer now 

 The starry trout is belling ; 



All leafless left, the alder bough 

 Moans o'er his glassy dwelling. 



VI. 



Then heap, heap high our social hearth ! 



Why should the good fire flicker 1 

 And quaff quaff on ! the best of mirth 



Lies deepest in the liquor ! 



