At Broad Ripple
Oh luxury!
Beyond the heat And dust of town, with dangling feet Astride the rock below the dam,
In the cool shadows where the calm Rests on the stream again, and all Is silent save the waterfall,— I bait my hook and cast my line,
And feel the best of life is mine.
No high ambition can I claim — I angle not for lordly game Of trout, or bass, or wary bream — A black perch reaches the extreme Of my desires; and "goggle-eyes" Are not a thing that I despise;
A sunfish, or a "chub," or a "cat"— A "silver-side"— yea, even that!
In eloquent tranquility The waters lisp and talk to me.
Sometimes, far out, the surface breaks,
As some proud bass an instant shakes His glittering armor in the sun,
And romping ripples, one by one,
Come dallyiong across the space Where undulates my smiling face.
The river's story flowing by,
Forever sweet to ear and eye,
Forever tenderly begun — Forever new and never done.
Thus lulled and sheltered in a shade Where never feverish cares invade,
I bait my hook and cast my line,
And feel the best of life is mine.
James Whitcomb Riley
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