The Luckless Fisherman
They laughed when I came home last night
And said I didn't get a bite;
They snickered an' they joked at me,
And all the fellows asked to see
The ones I'd caught, "Oho!" said they,
"He's been out fishing all this day
An' hasn't caught a single thing,
He never got a fish to string."
They laughed at me, but all their jeers
Traveled no further than my ears.
'Twas true I'd fished all day without
Snaring a single speckled trout,
But what of that? I'd had a day
That I could loaf and dream away,
I'd chummed with birds and friendly trees
And been as care-free as the breeze.
I'd rested wheresoe'er I'd willed,
To me the hum of trade was stilled,
I'd let my thoughts go wandering far
To where life's happier glories are;
I'd whistled like a boy once more,
And even stretched full length on shore
To watch the white clouds sail the blue,
The very way I used to do.
They laughed when I came home at night
And said I didn't get a bite.
They seemed to think my luck was bad.
They couldn't guess the fun I'd had
And couldn't know that all that day
I'd been a free man, blithe and gay,
And though of fish I'd landed none,
I'd caught the joys for which I'd gone.
Consolation
"It is all for the best," so they said
As I stood by my dead.
But I doubted the word
That so often I heard;
I could catch but the moan
Of the mother, alone,
And feel but the blow
Which had stricken us so.
"Why," I cried, "should it be
God must so punish me?
Why should my baby die
When are hundreds near by,
Old and feeble of breath,
Waiting only for death?"
And they answered me low:
"God has ordered it so."