I praise the Gnat, the Olive Dun,
Discuss the worth of wings and hackle;
I've flies myself of each design,
No book is better filled than mine.
But when I reach the river's side
Alone, for none of these I wish.
No victim to a foolish pride.
My object is to capture fish;
Let me confess, then, since you ask it—
A worm it is which fills my basket!