THE TROUT-STREAM 



There is a spot where plumy pines 

 O'erhang the sylvan banks of Otter; 



Where woodchucks build among the vines 

 That bend above the crystal water. 



And there the blue- jay makes her nest, 

 In thickest shade of water beeches; 



A fish-hawk, statuesque in rest, 



Keeps guard o'er glassy pools and reaches. 



'T is there the deer come down to drink, 

 From laurel brakes and wooded ridges; 



The trout, beneath the sedgy brink, 



Are sharp on ship- wrecked flies and midges. 



GEORGE W. SEARS ("NESSMUK") 



From "Forest Runes," by courtesy of Forest and Stream Pub- 

 lishing Co. 



