Poem: “The Real Bait” by Edgar A. Guest

A Heap o’ Livin’

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American Literature – American Poetry – Edgar A. Guest – Poems by Edgar A. Guest – A Heap o’ Livin’
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The Real Bait

To gentle ways I am inclined;
    I have no wish to kill.
  To creatures dumb I would be kind;
    I like them all, but still
  Right now I think I’d like to be
    Beside some rippling brook,
  And grab a worm I’d brought with me
    And slip him on a hook.

  I’d like to put my hand once more
    Into a rusty can
  And turn those squirmy creatures o’er
    Like nuggets in a pan;
  And for a big one, once again,
    With eager eyes I’d look,
  As did a boy I knew, and then
    Impale it on a hook.

  I’ve had my share of fishing joy,
    I’ve fished with patent bait,
  With chub and minnow, but the boy
    Is lord of sport’s estate.
  And no such pleasure comes to man
    So rare as when he took
  A worm from a tomato can
    And slipped it on a hook.

  I’d like to gaze with glowing eyes
    Upon that precious bait,
  To view each fat worm as a prize
    To be accounted great.
  And though I’ve passed from boyhood’s term,
    And opened age’s book,
  I still would like to put a worm
    That wriggled on a hook.

< < < The Happiest Days
True Nobility > > >

American Literature – American Poetry – Edgar A. Guest – Poems by Edgar A. Guest – A Heap o’ Livin’

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A Heap o’ Livin’

The Real Bait

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