THE IDLER’S CALENDAR
Synopsis
TROUT--FISHING This morning, through my window, half awake, I felt the south wind blow; and presently, With a tumultuous thrill and then a shake, The nightingale broke forth in melody. I rose in haste, and looked at the grey sky, And read an omen. From its corner next A book I drew, blest book, where fly on fly Are all the letters of its well--thumbed text.
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