As It Is

He stood beside the streamlet

And had a golden dreamlet.

He held a fish line dangling,

Lost in the joys of angling.

It was the trouting season,

And life was rhyme and reason.

Beneath the waters swirling

He saw the monsters swirling.

At last he felt a tugging

The while his heart went chugging.

He yanked his rod like magic,

And then his face was tragic.

He cried, between the swishes:

“Ye gods and little fishes!”

March 28, 1911

                   Ac. by Judge