Classic Poem

In Western rivers dark and deep
That flow thro' open prairie land,
Past sandy bluff and wooded steep,
Thro' solemn forests lone and grand,
The dusky black bass float and swim,
Or o'er the placid surface skim.

In shallows of the river-reach
Where rock and pebbles chafe the tide,
Where o'er white gravel and the sand
The rushing waters foam and glide,
There oft the angler with his fly
Takes the black rovers where they lie.

But often in the middle deeps
Where fathomless the water sleeps,
Or where some stony dam or pier,
Obstructs the currents' swift career,
There oft the struggling, finny spoil
Rewards the angler's patient toil.