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Rural Sports: A Georgic - Canto I.

You, who the sweets of rural life have known,
Despise the ungrateful hurry of the town;
In Windsor groves your easy hours employ,
And, undistub'd, yourself and muse enjoy.
Thames, listens to thy strains, and silent flows,
And no rude winds through rustling osiers blows,
While all his wondering nymphs around thee throng,
To hear the Syrens warble in thy song.

But I, who ne'er was bless'd by fortune's hand,
Nor brighten'd plough shares in paternal land,
Long in the noisy town have been immur'd,
Respir'd its smoke, and all its cares endur'd,
Where news and politics divide mankind,
And schemes of state involve the uneasy mind:
Faction embroils the world; and every tongue
Is mov'd by flattery, or with scandal hung:
Friendship, for sylvan shades, the palace flies,
Where all must yield to interest's dearer ties,
Each rival Machiavel with envy burns,

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poem by John Gay
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Amazing Grace

'Live, live with me, and thou shalt see
The pleasures I'll prepare for thee:
What sweets the country can afford
Shall bless thy bed, and bless thy board.'
So Robert Herrick's poetry
has written yet his words may be
as nought compared to all that's poured
in soul-song here for my adored.

'Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dale and field,
Or woods or steepy mountain yield.' -
Though Marlowe's maid as hand and glove
swain fain would fit her heart to move,
his verse is but an empty shield
compared to all I'd have revealed.

'But Time drives flocks from field to fold;
When rivers rage and rocks grow cold;

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Our money is bait money, and bait money is not to be used.

quote by Mike Tyson
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Man defies God

Orgasm is the bait; mating is fishing.
Birth is the catch; it’s the God’s wish.
Orgasm is the bait; orgasm is the catch.
Birth is outcast; it’s man’s crush.
25.08.2007

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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I'm fishing for men with a certain kind of bait, and the bait that I am offering is not a candy; it's a very specific thing that I'm offering, which is a deep gospel and a deep conversion.

quote by Larry Norman
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At The Fishing Village

life is simple here
and i learn a lot
first, i put the bait
on the hook,
got an earth
worm
wriggling
attractive inside
the green
water
i throw the line
a fish
catches
the bait and
it is caught

i cook what i catch
and have
my own fill

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Lure

“WHAT bait do you use,' said a Saint to the Devil,
When you fish where the souls of men abound?'
'Well, for special tastes,' said the King of Evil,
'Gold and Fame are the best I've found.'
'But for common use?' asked the Saint. 'Ah, then,'
Said the Demon, 'I angle for Man, not men,
And a thing I hate
Is to change my bait,
So I fish with a woman the whole year round.'

poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
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The Fisherman's Boat

I am tied to a pole
In me came and sat a fisherman with a big mole
He had a fishing rod and a net
With a bucket and bait so wet

He untied me and rowed me
Into the deep sea
And with rod, net and bait
He caught fish till late

He went home with a big fish
To prepare and eat a tasty dish
Tomorrow again he’ll come wearing his overcoat
To untie me, his little fishing boat.

poem by Niharika Singh
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I Bait With My Heart

'When you fish for love, bait with your heart, not your brain.'
Mark Twain (1835-1910)

since i shall fish
for love,
so i have love
as bait
not my brain
which has given
me more pain
than pleasure
the thoughts
that shy away
from the true meaning
of love
looking into the dictionary
of words
rather than deeds
because precisely
God has invented the

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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050510J trying not to work

i happened to talk to a gentleman
retired from government last month
he is taking his time without a plan
fishing the wharf at morning sunshine
got his fishing hooks all tangled up
he told me, last he just threw in a box

on his first cast he yelled 'come on bite'
in my mind how could they without bait
snug 'em that won't be very pretty sight
i guess he saw me with a grin; respond
'oh! yes, i never put bait on first launch'
'i noticed, you must be clearing the rust'

poem by Manonton Dalan
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