AN ANGLER'S WISH 117 

 AN ANGLER'S WISH* 



BY HENRY VAN DYKE 



WHEN tulips bloom in Union Square, 

 And timid breaths of vernal air 



Go wandering down the dusty town, 

 Like children lost in Vanity Fair; 



When every long, unlovely row 

 Of westward houses stands aglow, 



And leads the eyes towards sunset skies 

 Beyond the hills where green trees grow 



Then weary seems the street parade, 

 And weary books, and weary trade: 



I'm only wishing to go a-fishing; 

 For this the month of May was made. 



ii 



I guess the pussy-willows now 

 Are creeping out on every bough 



Along the brook; and robins look 

 For early worms behind the plow. 



The thistle-birds have changed their dun 

 For yellow coats, to match the sun; 



And in the same array of flame 

 The dandelion show's begun. 



*From "The Builders and other Poems," copyright 1897, by 

 Charles Scribner's Sons. 



