40 PALMER WORMS. 



BLOOMING MAY. 



The upland lawn looks blythe and gay, 

 The morning star hails blooming May 

 The mist of night flies swift away, 



And rolls along the dale. 

 The morning's light appears in sight, 

 With gentle zephyrs fanning by 

 The sun just breaking forth on high, 

 And on his golden pinions fly 



To deck the fertile vale, 



The angler hastens with delight 

 And the lark takes his aerial flight 

 They rise to meet the morning's light, 



And hail the break of daj. 

 Birds do sing and flowers spring, 

 O'er blooming heath we lightly tread, 

 Down by the mountain's rocky glade, 

 Where mimic waterfalls are made, 



And trout around us play. 



The blooming rose and woodbine meet, 

 Such pleasures there the anglers greet ; 

 The air is filled with fragrance sweet, 



What more could mortals crave ? 

 Our flies we guide on every side, 

 With vernal rains the waters bouud, 

 And with success the day is crown' d 

 The trout are sporting all around, 



Beneath the curling wave. 



There is no sport which can compare, 



To anglers who fish with hair ; 



We tempt the trout that's leaping there, 



Along the silver stream. 

 With line and hook we skim the brook ; 

 Our flies they are so fine and neat, 

 That fish ne'er can discern the cheat ; 

 At night we give our Mends a treat 



By tho sun's parting beam. 



