Thursday, September 07, 2006
It's never about the trout...well almost never
It's not always about catching a lot of fish that draws one to fly fishing. It's just a simple desire within myself to get away. There's no stress about who is in the pool where I want to fish because there is always somewhere else to cast a line. Sometimes though, it is about the trout.
So read the poem below with that in mind
Where the wandering water gushes from the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes that scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout and whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;Leaning softly out from ferns that drop their tears over the young streams.
Come away O human child!To the waters and the wild with a faery hand in hand,
For the worlds more full of weeping than you can understand.
Excerpt from " The Stolen Child" W.B. Yeats from The Collected Poems of W.B. Yeats