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THE OLD ANGLER
A mocking, icy, inhuman note.
One instant flashed that crystal breast,
Leaned, and was gone. Dead-still the boat:
And the deep dark at rest.
Flits moth to flower. A water-rat
Noses the placid ripple. And lo!
Streams a lost meteor. Night is late.
And daybreak zephyrs flow. . . .
And he—the cheated? Dusk till morn,
Insensate, even of hope forsook,
He muttering squats, aloof, forlorn,
Dangling a baitless hook.
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