Fishing

A day to dream Along a stream, The song of birds Instead of words, And pictures rare Flung everywhere. Instead of smoke To blind and choke, An atmosphere That’s sweet and clear, The trees instead Of chimneys red. A patch of sky To rest the eye; Instead of noise, A thousand joys; Instead of greed, A kindlier creed. A day to dream Along the stream, To think and plan, Restores a man, And this he knows Who fishing goes.