/// the Haunts of Bream and Bass. 399 



VI. 



I follow where my victim leads, 

 Through tangles of rank water-weeds, 



O'er stone and root and knotty log, 

 And faithless bits of reedy bog. 



I wonder will he ever stop ? 



The reel hums like a humming-top ! 



A thin sandpiper, wild with fright, 

 Goes into ecstasies of flight, 



Whilst I, all flushed and breathless, tear 

 Through lady-fern and maiden's-hair, 



And in my straining fingers feel 

 The throbbing of the rod and reel ! 



Bubble, bubble flows the stream, 

 Like an old tune through a dream ! 



VIK 



At last he tires, I reel him in ; 

 I see the glint of scale and fin. 



I raise the rod — I shorten line 

 And safely land him ; he is mine ! 



The belted halcyon laughs, the wren 

 Comes twittering from its brushy den, 



The turtle sprawls upon his log, 

 I hear the booming of a frog. 



Liquid amber's keen perfume, 

 Sweet-punk, calamus, tulip-bloom, 



Glimpses of a cloudless sky 

 Soothe me as I resting lie. 



Bubble, bubble flows the stream, 

 Like low music through a dream. 



