The Angler’s Invitation
Come when the leaf comes, angle with me,
Come when the bee hums over the lea,
Come with the wild flowers—
Come with the wild showers—
Come when the singing bird calleth for thee!
Then to the stream side, gladly we’ll hie,
Where the grey trout glide silently by,
Or in some still place
Over the hill face
Hurrying onward, drop the light fly.
Then, when the dew falls, homeward we’ll speed
To our own loved walls down on the mead,
There, by the bright hearth,
Holding our night mirth,
We’ll drink to sweet friendship in need and in deed.
Thomas Tod Stoddart.