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46

XVIII. THE GOLDEN CARP

Fishing! fishing! fishing!
The old man sits in a dream;
Wishing! wishing! wishing!
Watching his float on the stream.
Minnows and roach and gudgeon
Lie in heaps by his side;
But he scowls like an old curmudgeon,
He never seems satisfied.
So I passed through the open gateway,
By a copse of larch and fir,
And I asked the old man straightway,
“What are you fishing for, sir?”
And he said, with his features working
And a keen look strange and sharp,
“Do you see in the rushes lurking
That monstrous golden carp?”

47

And I looked, and I saw the willows,
And I saw the rushing stream—
I marked the blue swift billows,
But I saw no golden gleam.
Ah me! he has fished for ever
(And we all of us do the same)
For a prize that glittered never,
For a carp that never came.