THE WHITE RIVER
The Fisher Artist, Hurls his lure, To current’s edge, With ease, “Fish On”! He Utters, Neath is Breath, Wile in his Heart, He’s deeply pleased, Rod fully bent, Line fully strained, Little by little, He plays the gain, With net swishing downward, One swift swing of the arm, He gathers his prey, But inflicting no harm, Drinking in the moment, He gently turns it out, Releasing with pleasure, A White River Trout.
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