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Robert W Service - Fisherfolk
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I like to look at fishermen
      And oftentimes I wish
One would be lucky now and then
      And catch a little fish.
I watch them statuesquely stand,
      And at the water look;
But if they pull their float to land
      It`s just to bait a hook.
      
I ponder the psychology
      That roots them in their place;
And wonder at the calm I see
      In ever angler`s face.
There is such patience in their eyes,
      Beside the river`s brink;
And waiting for a bite or rise
      I do not think they think.

Or else they are just gentle men,
      Who love—they know not why,
Greeen grace of trees or water when
      It wimples to the sky . . .
Sweet simple souls! As vain I watch
      My heart to you is kind:
Most precious prize of all you catch,
      —Just Peace of Mind.
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