Paul Laurence Dunbar - In AugustPaul Laurence Dunbar - In August
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When August days are hot an` dry,
When burning copper is the sky,
I `d rather fish than feast or fly
In airy realms serene and high.
I `d take a suit not made for looks,
Some easily digested books,
Some flies, some lines, some bait, some hooks,
Then would I seek the bays and brooks.
I would eschew mine every task,
In Nature`s smiles my soul should bask,
And I methinks no more could ask,
Except--perhaps--one little flask.
In case of accident, you know,
Or should the wind come on to blow,
Or I be chilled or capsized, so,
A flask would be the only go.
Then could I spend a happy time,--
A bit of sport, a bit of rhyme
(A bit of lemon, or of lime,
To make my bottle`s contents prime).
When August days are hot an` dry,
I won`t sit by an` sigh or die,
I `ll get my bottle (on the sly)
And go ahead, and fish, and lie!
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