'Men will grow weary,' said the Lord, <br />'Of working for their bed and board. <br />They'll weary of the money chase <br />And want to find a resting place <br />Where hum of wheel is never heard <br />And no one speaks an angry word, <br />And selfishness and greed and pride <br />And petty motives don't abide. <br />They'll need a place where they can go <br />To wash their souls as white as snow. <br />They will be better men and true <br />If they can play a day or two.' <br /> <br />The Lord then made the brooks to flow <br />And fashioned rivers here below, <br />And many lakes; for water seems <br />Best suited for a mortal's dreams. <br />He placed about them willow trees <br />To catch the murmur of the breeze, <br />And sent the birds that sing the best <br />Among the foliage to nest. <br />He filled each pond and stream and lake <br />With fish for man to come and take; <br />Then stretched a velvet carpet deep <br />On which a weary soul could sleep. <br /> <br />It seemed to me the Good Lord knew <br />That man would want something to do <br />When worn and wearied with the stress <br />Of battling hard for world success. <br />When sick at heart of all the strife <br />And pettiness of daily life, <br />He knew he'd need, from time to time, <br />To cleanse himself of city grime, <br />And he would want some place to be <br />Where hate and greed he'd never see. <br />And so on lakes and streams and brooks <br />The Good Lord fashioned fishing nooks.<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/fishing-nooks/
