Angling Sketches from a Wayside InnAndrew Baxendine, 1911 - 222 páginas |
Términos y frases comunes
amongst angler angling Arran asked Auldgirth Baltasound bank baskets beautiful birds boat bracken brown brown trout burn Burra Firth cast catch caught charm Cleuch coast cottage creature creels and go Cynic dark deep Dominie fancy favourite fish fisher fishin flies Fly Busker frae glen Haroldswick heather hills island James Hogg Kilmory land lapwing Lerwick Loch Cliff Loch Skene lonely look Meggat memory miles Minnow Champion Moffat Moffat water mood moor morning mountain never otter hunt ower Pack creels passed pool pounds rare replied river rocks round salmon scene Scotland Scots sea trout season seemed seen Shetland Shetland isles shore side sight Sliddery song sound sport stream Talla thought trees troot Unst Uyeasound valley Veteran voice waders Watley waves WAYSIDE WAYSIDE INN weel-filled creel White Coombe wild wind Yarrow
Pasajes populares
Página 211 - Twixt resignation and content. Oft in my mind such thoughts awake By lone St. Mary's silent lake ; Thou know'st it well, — nor fen, nor sedge, Pollute the pure lake's crystal edge ; Abrupt and sheer, the mountains sink At once upon the level brink ; And just a trace of silver sand Marks where the water meets the land.
Página 214 - But thou, that didst appear so fair To fond imagination, Dost rival in the light of day Her delicate creation : Meek loveliness is round thee spread, A softness still and holy ; The grace of forest charms decayed, And pastoral melancholy.
Página 75 - O WAKEN, winds, waken ! the waters are still, And silence and sunlight recline on the hill ; The angler is watching beside the green springs For the low welcome sound of your wandering wings ! n.
Página 47 - one half of the world does not know how the other half lives.
Página 75 - Calm-bound is the form of the water-bird fair, And the spear of the rush stands erect in the air, And the dragon-fly roams o'er the lily-bed gay, Where basks the bold pike in a sun-smitten bay.
Página 205 - Above the high horizon bar A cloud of golden mist was lying, And over it a single star Soared heavenward as the day was dying. No sound, no word, from field or ford, Nor breath of wind to float a feather, While Yarrow's murmuring waters poured A lonely music through the heather. In silent fascination bound, As if some mighty spell obeying, The hills stood listening to the sound, And wondering what the stream was saying.
Página 195 - Comes dancin' doon through shine and shimmer At headlang pace, till wi' a jaw It jumps the rocky waterfa', And cuts sic cantrips in the air, The picture-pentin' man's despair ; A rountree bus' oot o'er the tap o't, A glassy pule to kep the lap o't, While on the brink the blue harebell Keeks o'er to see its bonnie sel', And sittin' chirpin' a' its lane A water-waggy on a stane.
Página 195 - Syne divin' in below the grun', Where, hidden frae the sicht and sun, It gibbers like a deid man's ghost That clamours for the licht it's lost, Till oot again the loupin
Página 35 - And to my way o' thinkin', There's naething for't but drinkin', When a Saumon lies winkin' and lauchin' at me. There's a bend in the Tweed, ere It mingles with the Leader, Perchance you may see there a wide, o'erspreadin' tree; That's a part o' the river That I'll revisit never; 'Twas there that Scaly Buffer lay lauchin