The Flower Boat

The Fisherman's swapping a yarn for a yarn
Under the hand of the village barber,
And here in the angle of house and barn
His deep-sea dory has found a harbor.

At anchor she rides the sunny sod
As full to the gunnel with flowers a-growing
As ever she turned her home with cod
From Georges Bank when winds were blowing.

And I know from that Elysian freight
She will brave but once more the Atlantic weather,
When dory and fisherman sail by fate
To seek for the Happy Isles together.

Robert Lee Frost

Robert Lee Frost was an American poet renowned for his depictions of rural New England life, his realistic verse portraying ordinary people in everyday situations. Frost's work frequently employed themes from the natural world and championed common speech. He received four Pulitzer Prizes for Poetry and was a much-honored poet of his era. Some of his most famous works include 'The Road Not Taken,' 'Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening,' and 'Mending Wall.'

Robert Lee Frost

Into My Own

Robert Lee Frost, Simple Poetry

The Soldier

Robert Lee Frost, Simple Poetry

An Old Man's Winter Night

Robert Lee Frost, Simple Poetry

Tree At My Window

Robert Lee Frost, Simple Poetry

English

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Old Boats

I saw the old sea captain in his city daughter's house,
Shaved till his chin was pink, and brushed till his hair was flat,
In a broadcloth suit and varnished boots and a collar up to his ears.
(I'd seen him last with a slicker on and a tied down oilskin hat.)

And it happened that I went home last June, and saw in Mallory's yard
The old red dory that sprung a leak a couple of years ago,
Dragged out of good salt water and braced to stand in the grass
And be filled with dirt from stem to stern, where posies and such could grow.

Painted to beat the band, with vines strung over the sides
And red geraniums in the bow,--a boat that was built for water
Made into a flower garden. I looked, but I didn't laugh,
For I thought of the old sea captain living in town with his daughter.

Theodosia Garrison

Two Fishers

One morning when Spring was in her teens,
    A morn to a poet's wishing,
All tinted in delicate pinks and greens,
    Miss Bessie and I went fishing.

I in my rough and easy clothes,
    With my face at the sun-tan's mercy;
She with her hat tipped down to her nose,
    And her nose tipped, vice versa.

I with my rod, my reel, and my hooks,
    And a hamper for lunching recesses;
She with the bait of her comely looks,
    And the seine of her golden tresses.

So we sat us down on the sunny dike,
    Where the white pond-lilies teeter,
And I went to fishing like quaint old Ike,
    And she like Simon Peter.

All the noon I lay in the light of her eyes,
    And dreamily watched and waited,
But the fish were cunning and would ...

Unknown

Sand Dunes

Sea waves are green and wet,
But up from where they die,
Rise others vaster yet,
And those are brown and dry.

They are the sea made land
To come at the fisher town,
And bury in solid sand
The men she could not drown.

She may know cove and cape,
But she does not know mankind
If by any change of shape,
She hopes to cut off mind.

Men left her a ship to sink:
They can leave her a hut as well;
And be but more free to think
For the one more cast-off shell.

Robert Lee Frost

Fishing.

        "Harry, where have you been all morning?"
            "Down at the pool in the meadow-brook."
        "Fishing?" "Yes, but the trout were wary,
            Couldn't induce them to take a hook."
        "Why, look at your coat! You must have fallen,
            Your back's just covered with leaves and moss."
        How he laughs! Good-natured fellow!
            Fisherman's luck makes most men cross.

        "Nellie, the Wrights have called. Where were you?"
            "Under the tree, by the meadow-brook
        Reading, and oh, it was too lovely;
            I never saw such a charming book."
        The charming book must have pleased her, truly,
            There's a happy light in her bright young eyes
        And she hugs the cat with unusual fervor...

George Augustus Baker, Jr.

The Ballad Of The Oysterman

It was a tall young oysterman lived by the river-side,
His shop was just upon the bank, his boat was on the tide;
The daughter of a fisherman, that was so straight and slim,
Lived over on the other bank, right opposite to him.

It was the pensive oysterman that saw a lovely maid,
Upon a moonlight evening, a sitting in the shade;
He saw her wave her handkerchief, as much as if to say,
"I 'm wide awake, young oysterman, and all the folks away."

Then up arose the oysterman, and to himself said he,
"I guess I 'll leave the skiff at home, for fear that folks should see
I read it in the story-book, that, for to kiss his dear,
Leander swam the Hellespont, - and I will swim this here."

And he has leaped into the waves, and crossed the shining stream,
And he has clam...

Oliver Wendell Holmes

Mysterious Doings

As once I rambled in the woods
I chanced to spy amid the brake
A huntsman ride his way beside
A fair and passing tranquil lake;
Though velvet bucks sped here and there,
He let them scamper through the green--
Not one smote he, but lustily
He blew his horn--what could it mean?

As on I strolled beside that lake,
A pretty maid I chanced to see
Fishing away for finny prey,
Yet not a single one caught she;
All round her boat the fishes leapt
And gambolled to their hearts' content,
Yet never a thing did the maid but sing--
I wonder what on earth it meant.

As later yet I roamed my way,
A lovely steed neighed loud and long,
And an empty boat sped all afloat
Where sang a fishermaid her song;
All underneath the prudent shade,
Which y...

Eugene Field