Speckled Angling

He was a dashing city chap,

     And hungered for an outing,

And though the season it was late,

     Decided to go trouting.

He fished all day without success,

     At eventide, quite mute he,

Called at a farmhouse for a meal,

     Without a speckled beauty.

He met thereat a country maid,

     A winsome freckled creature,

With roguish eyes and auburn hair,

     Of charming form and feature.

He went again and yet again,

     ‘Twixt love and fish and duty;

But ere the fishing season closed

     He caught a speckled beauty.

May 27, ‘09