And try the fisher’s hardy toil
For bass, and other finny spoil.
One gray old man, of whom I heard
No more than this descriptive word,
“Old Kennedy,”—he rattled on,
Of men and things long past and gone,
And seemed without one careful thought,—
Till spark to tinder some one brought
By hinting that he launched no more,
Of late, his surf-boat from the shore,