A Lazy Day

THE trees bend down along the stream,
Where anchored swings my tiny boat.
The day is one to drowse and dream
And list the thrush's throttling note.
When music from his bosom bleeds
Among the river's rustling reeds.
No ripple stirs the placid pool,
When my adventurous line is cast,
A truce to sport, while clear and cool,
The mirrored clouds slide softly past.
The sky gives back a blue divine,
And all the world's wide wealth is mine.
A pickerel leaps, a bow of light,
The minnows shine from side to side.
The first faint breeze comes up the tide —
I pause with half uplifted oar,
While night drifts down to claim the shore.

by Paul Laurence Dunbar

Comments (11)

Very nice, this poem paints many pictures in the mind
A very nice poem indeed dear poet
Oh, my goodness, this is so very lovely and so very true to the fisherman's real reason to go fishing! ! ! Love the alliteration in almost every line- -it paints the picture with soft relaxed hues.- - - Among the river's rustling reeds. No ripple stirs the placid pool, - - -A treasure.and a gift is a lazy day.
Overall I like this poem and relate to Dunbar’s enjoyment in the scene surrounding him. One little false note, speaking poet-craft-wise, is his use of bleeds. Not a fisherman myself, I read his truce to sport as an admission he’s really interested in the surroundings and less in catching anything. -GK
Such a wonderful write by Paul Laurence Dunbar👍👍👍
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