Poems that pursue the horizon from past to present and poems created for NaPoWriMo 2017 |
O the gallant fisher's life, It is the best of any! 'Tis full of pleasure, void of strife, And 'tis beloved by many; Other joys Are but toys; Only this Lawful is; For our skill Breeds no ill, But content and pleasure. In a morning up we rise, Ere Aurora's peeping; Drink a cup to wash our eyes, Leave the sluggard sleeping; Then we go To and for, With our knacks At our backs, To such streams As the Thames, If we have the leisure. When we please to walk abroad For our recreation, In the fields is our abode, Full of delectation, Where, in a brook, With a hook- Or a lake,- Fish we take; There we sit, For a bit, Till we fish entangle. We have gentles in a horn, We have paste and worms too; We can watch both night and morn, Suffer rain and storms too; None do here Use to swear: Oaths do fray Fish away; We sit still, Watch our quill: Fishers must not wrangle. If the sun's excessive heat Make our bodies swelter, To an osier hedge we get, For a friendly shelter; Where, in a dike, Perch or pike, Roach or dace, We do chase, Bleak or gudgeon, Without grudging; We are still contented. Or we sometimes pass an hour Under a green willow, That defends us from a shower, Making earth our pillow; Where we may Think and pray, Before death Stops our breath; Other joys Are but toys, And to be lamented. John Chalkhill[fl. 1648], [c.1595-1642] From: The Home Book of Verse by Burton Egbert Stevenson, 1917, pg. 2917 ********************* This English poet left a bit of mystery behind. Much of his work was published posthumously by a relative, Izzak Walton. Although it is only recently that the family connection between the two was discovered and verifiable. Many of his original poems were attributed to Walton. Little is known about the poet Chalkhill other than his birthplace and genealogical connections. He was educated at Trinity College in Cambridge. https://www.britannica.com/biography/John-Chalkhill, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Chalkhill, http://www.bartleby.com/360/5/98.html This poem appeared in The Compleat Angler published by Izzak Walton after Chalkhill's death. I thought the sentiments expressed about fishing hold true today and the form and format are unique and interesting. For this poem, it all works. There is a quaintness to this that is endearing and timeless in its own way. Two modern versions are offered to compare and contrast. Both are by authors unknown; both are angler's prayers. Fisherman's Prayer May the Good Lord help me see the day When I catch the one that got away! Fisherman's Prayer I pray that I may live to fish Until my dying day. And when it comes to my last cast, I then most humbly pray: When in the Lord's great landing net And peacefully asleep That in His mercy I be judged Big enough to keep. Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.~~Robert Frost |