FOR these are sacred fishes all <br />Who know that lord that is the lord of all; <br />Come to the brim and nose the friendly hand <br />That sways and can beshadow all the land. <br />Nor only so, but have their names, and come <br />When they are summoned by the Lord of Rome. <br />Here once his line an impious Lybian threw; <br />And as with tremulous reed his prey he drew, <br />Straight, the light failed him. <br />He groped, nor found the prey that he had ta'en. <br />Now as a warning to the fisher clan <br />Beside the lake he sits, a beggarman. <br />Thou, then, while still thine innocence is pure, <br />Flee swiftly, nor presume to set thy lure; <br />Respect these fishes, for their friends are great; <br />And in the waters empty all thy bait.<br /><br />Robert Louis Stevenson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ad-piscatorem/
