The Shepherd Piping To The Fishes
A Shepherd seeking with his Lass
To shun the Heat of Day;
Was seated on the shadow'd Grass,
Near which a flowing Stream did pass,
And Fish within it play.
The Phillis he an Angle gave,
And bid her toss the Line;
For sure, quoth he, each Fish must have,
Who do's not seek to be thy Slave,
A harder Heart than mine.
Assemble here you watry Race,
Transportedly he cries;
And if, when you behold her Face,
You e'er desire to quit the Place,
You see not with my Eyes.
But you, perhaps, are by the Ear,
More easie to be caught;
If so, I have my Bagpipe here,
The only Musick that's not dear,
Nor in great Cities bought.
So sprightly was the Tune he chose,
And often did repeat;
That Phillis, tho' not up she rose,
Kept time with every thrilling Close,
And jigg'd upon her Seat.
But not a Fish wou'd nearer draw,
No Harmony or Charms,
Their frozen Blood, it seems, cou'd thaw,
Nor all they heard, nor all they saw
Cou'd woo them to such Terms.
The angry Shepherd in a Pett,
Gives o'er his wheedling Arts,
And from his Shoulder throws the Net,
Resolv'd he wou'd a Supper get
By Force, if not by Parts.
Thus stated Laws are always best
To rule the vulgar Throng,
Who grow more Stubborn when Carest,
Or with soft Rhetorick addrest,
If taking Measures wrong.
poem by Anne Kingsmill Finch
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Songs Set To Music: 14. Set By Mr. Smith
Once I was unconfined and free,
Would I had been so still!
Enjoying sweetest liberty,
And roving at my will.
But now, not master of my heart,
Cupid does so decide,
That two she tyrants shall it part,
And so poor me divide.
Victoria's will I must obey,
She acts without control;
Phillis has such a taking way
She charms my very soul.
Deceived by Phillis' looks and smiles,
Into her snares I run;
Victoria shows me all her wiles,
Which yet I dare not shun.
From one I fancy every kiss
Has something in't divine,
And awful taste the balmy bliss
That joins her lips with mine.
But when with th' other I embrace,
Though she be not a queen,
Methinks 'tis sweet with such a lass
To tumble on the green.
Thus here you see a shared heart,
But I meanwhile the fool;
Each in it has an equal part,
But neither yet the whole.
Nor will it, if I right forecast,
To either wholly yield;
I find the time approaches fast
When both must quit the field.
poem by Matthew Prior
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31
A fish that drinks like a fish, that is a fish in excess
A fish that fishes in troubled waters, that is a fish taking advantage of another fish in trouble
A fish that fishes or cuts bait, well, to be or not to be, to retreat or to attack, that is the fishy question
A fish that is neither fish nor fowl, is a fish that is neither one nor the other, lacking some convictions
A fish out of water, is a fish feeling left out, no longer in his accustomed environment
Do you have other fish to fry for now?
Is there other matter requiring my attention?
Poor fish,
the lake is finally fished out from his fishy mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Some things that can happen with a fish
A fish that drinks like a fish, that is a fish in excess
A fish that fishes in troubled waters, that is a fish taking advantage of another fish in trouble
A fish that fishes or cuts bait, well, to be or not to be, to retreat or to attack, that is the fishy question
A fish that is neither fish nor fowl, is a fish that is neither one nor the other, lacking some convictions
A fish out of water, is a fish feeling left out, no longer in his accustomed environment
Do you have other fish to fry for now?
Is there other matter requiring my attention?
Poor fish,
the lake is finally fished out from his fishy mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Our biggest fish
When in the halcyon days of old, I was a little tyke,
I used to fish in pickerel ponds for minnows and the like;
And oh, the bitter sadness with which my soul was fraught
When I rambled home at nightfall with the puny string I'd caught!
And, oh, the indignation and the valor I'd display
When I claimed that all the biggest fish I'd caught had got away!
Sometimes it was the rusty hooks, sometimes the fragile lines,
And many times the treacherous reeds would foil my just designs;
But whether hooks or lines or reeds were actually to blame,
I kept right on at losing all the monsters just the same--
I never lost a little fish--yes, I am free to say
It always was the biggest fish I caught that got away.
And so it was, when later on, I felt ambition pass
From callow minnow joys to nobler greed for pike and bass;
I found it quite convenient, when the beauties wouldn't bite
And I returned all bootless from the watery chase at night,
To feign a cheery aspect and recount in accents gay
How the biggest fish that I had caught had somehow got away.
And really, fish look bigger than they are before they are before they're
caught--
When the pole is bent into a bow and the slender line is taut,
When a fellow feels his heart rise up like a doughnut in his throat
And he lunges in a frenzy up and down the leaky boat!
Oh, you who've been a-fishing will indorse me when I say
That it always is the biggest fish you catch that gets away!
'T 'is even so in other things--yes, in our greedy eyes
The biggest boon is some elusive, never-captured prize;
We angle for the honors and the sweets of human life--
Like fishermen we brave the seas that roll in endless strife;
And then at last, when all is done and we are spent and gray,
We own the biggest fish we've caught are those that got away.
I would not have it otherwise; 't is better there should be
Much bigger fish than I have caught a-swimming in the sea;
For now some worthier one than I may angle for that game--
May by his arts entice, entrap, and comprehend the same;
Which, having done, perchance he'll bless the man who's proud to say
That the biggest fish he ever caught were those that got away.
poem by Eugene Field
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Gallant maiden...Lets fish...
Lonely stream, where do you depart with your lover?
Lovely maiden, why do you walk on this lonely stream?
Lovely song brace with echoes...
I fish this stream my lovely maiden...
I can't fish...
Come, lets fish...
If you were this fish...
I will take care of you...
Come, i can't eat this fish...
We caught...
Where my gallant maiden, Where do you live?
You make me question this stream...
You make me guard our departed stream...
Come lets fish...
Lets, start over...
Before, this stream drys out...
Before, we can no longer fish again...
Oh, expire fish i treasure your bone for my lost lover...
I held you in my heart forever and ever...
In Constant Struggle
there is this hook, line and
sinker
someone is a fish and he
is caught
the urchins and clams
and octopuses watch helplessly
the fish is this philosophy of
being caught and wanting to be free
you are inside this ocean and
you are this fish
and then you wish to become a man
all your life you feel the fish in there
hook, line and sinker
the fish in you and the man within
in constant struggle
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Is it really like fishing?
They say there is many fish in the sea to choose from.
But have you ever gone fishing?
They say do not worry they are like fish you lose one then get a fresh one.
But have you actually gone fishing?
They say you can be picky when fishing your fish.
But have you been in the sea and fished?
They even say some actually smell like fish.
But have you really smelled a fish?
They say there is plenty of fish in the sea.
But have you actually gone and counted the fish in the sea?
They say once you catch that perfect fish, you are bound for a good life.
But have you caught that perfect fish they all speak of?
They say some fish can be beautiful.
But have you seen any beautiful fish?
How can one compare a fish?
They are not alike.
How can one say it is as easy as finding a fish?
It is not a simple task.
How can they say there are so many fish in the sea?
When there are so many fishers who have yet to catch.
Can you really compare life and love to a fish?
The answer is of course not.
You can’t.
Impossible.
Unreal.
Not imaginable.
Unbelievable.
Unrealistic.
A fairy tale.
poem by ReubenJames Rodriguez
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Ch 03 On The Excellence Of Contentment Story 24
A weak fisherman caught a strong fish in his net and not being able to retain it the fish overcame him and pulled the net from his hand.
A boy went to bring water from the torrent.
The torrent came and took the boy away.
The net brought every time a fish.
This time the fish went and carried off the net.
The other fishermen were sorry and blamed him for not being able to retain such a fish which had fallen into his net. He replied: ‘O brothers, what can be done? My day was not lucky but the fish had yet one remaining. ‘Moral: A fisherman cannot catch a fish in the Tigris without a day of luck and a fish cannot die on dry ground without the decree of fate.
Song Of A Scholar And His Mistress, Who, Being Crossed By Their Friends, Fell Mad For One Another; And Now First Meet In Bedlam
[Music within.]
The Lovers enter at opposite doors, each held by a keeper.
Phillis.
Look, look I see—I see my love appear!
’Tis he—’Tis he alone;
For, like him, there is none:
’Tis the dear, dear man, ’tis thee, dear.
Amyntas.
Hark! the winds war;
The foamy waves roar;
I see a ship afar:
Tossing and tossing, and making to the shore:
But what’s that I view,
So radiant of hue,
St. Hermo, St Hermo, that sits upon the sails?
Ah! No, no, no.
St. Hermo never, never shone so bright;'
'Tis Phillis, only Phillis, can shoot so fair a light;
'Tis Phillis, ’tis Phillis, that saves the ship alone,
For all the winds are hush’d, and the storm is overblown.
Phillis.
Let me go, let me run, let me fly to his arms.
Amyntas.
If all the fates combine,
And all the furies join,
I’ll force my way to Phillis, and break through the charm.
[Here they break from their keepers, run to each other, and embrace.]
Phillis.
Shall I marry the man I love?
And shall I conclude my pains?
Now bless’d be the powers above,
I feel the blood bound in my veins;
With a lively leap it began to move,
And the vapours leave my brains.
Amyntas.
Body join’d to body, and heart join’d to heart,
To make sure of the cure,
Go call the man in black, to mumble o’er his part.
Phillis.
But suppose he should stay—
Amyntas.
At worst if he delay,
'Tis a work must be done,
We’ll borrow but a day,
And the better, the sooner begun.
[They run out together hand in hand.]
poem by John Dryden
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The Fish Year
Marico brought back a tank with salt water from Brazil,
Wnetta bought small stones and water plants from pet store,
The red fish and black fish were got from
Hua’s backyard pond,
After Chris checking the filter
and water temperature,
everything is set,
and the fish is ready to grow and bred.
Gundi feeds the fish everyday,
and watches them day and night.
The red fish swim up and down,
The black fish swim down and up,
The green water plants swing their long leaves
upside down.
We can hear the talk from the tank:
One lady, two ladies, three ladies…
One man, two men, three men…
American, German, Chinese, Brazilian,
Indian, Russian…
The fish is counting! ! !
Counting the people in the lab!
Maybe they learned the counting from Gundi,
Gundi is a great mathematician,
She always counts when she watches them:
One fish, two fish, three fish…
Red fish, black fish, red-black fish…
That’s our first fish year,
we expect to have the second, the third,
and then for ever.
poem by Dongming Zhou
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Cat Fish
Cat fish play and leap witter-wotter. Over slow yonder. Purple mountains, apple skys, and jam taste like yip. Yap cat fish grew, so fast they licked ripe grass. Lumber slumbers in cat fish numbers. Lovers and muggers fall in deep cat fish reign. Cat fish took a long slumber on there yonder and were eaten by cat fish toddlers. The end!
poem by Shania K. Younce
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A Wet Whiskered Fishured Cat Caught Nothin' But An Empty Paw.
Tis' be fish-a fish of mine...
One that flips inside a pan o'thine.
That cat that swatted at a fish astray...
That cat had not caught a one'a fish that day.
Into the watery drink that cat did fall....
Kitty Kat-Kitty Kat is what he'd heard one call.
Inside the house he found me stearn...
But with fish in a pan he found to me to of learn.
Right off to market had i gone...
The Kitty Kat ate his share of fish b'fore fallen to
a sleep aft' last let out tired out, yawn.
Do you see? ...
Ssshhhhh!
ZZZZZZZeeee Zeee Zeee zzzz
zzzz
zzz! ! !
poem by Michael Gale
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Phillis 01
MY Phillis hath the morning sun
At first to look upon her;
And Phillis hath morn-waking birds
Her risings still to honour.
My Phillis hath prime-feather'd flowers,
That smile when she treads on them;
And Phillis hath a gallant flock,
That leaps since she doth own them.
But Phillis hath too hard a heart,
Alas that she should have it!
It yields no mercy to desert,
Nor grace to those that crave it.
poem by Thomas Lodge
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Phillis I
My Phillis hath the morning sun
At first to look upon her;
And Phillis hath morn-waking birds
Her risings still to honour.
My Phillis hath prime-feather'd flowers,
That smile when she treads on them;
And Phillis hath a gallant flock,
That leaps since she doth own them.
But Phillis hath too hard a heart,
Alas that she should have it!
It yields no mercy to desert,
Nor grace to those that crave it.
poem by Thomas Lodge
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An Angler
Now as an angler melancholy standing
Upon a green bank yielding room for landing,
A wriggling yellow worm thrust on his hook,
Now in the midst he throws, then in a nook:
Here pulls his line, there throws it in again,
Mendeth his cork and bait, but all in vain,
He long stands viewing of the curled stream;
At last a hungry pike, or well-grown bream
Snatch at the worm, and hasting fast away,
He knowing it a fish of stubborn sway,
Pulls up his rod, but soft, as having skill,
Wherewith the hook fast holds the fish's gill;
Then all his line he freely yieldeth him,
Whilst furiously all up and down doth swim
Th' insnared fish, here on the top doth scud,
There underneath the banks, then in the mud,
And with his frantic fits so scares the shoal,
That each one takes his hide, or starting hole:
By this the pike, clean wearied, underneath
A willow lies.
poem by William Browne
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Does a Fish go Pee?
Does a fish go pee
when it's swimming in the sea?
Does it ever get the notion
when it's swimming in the ocean?
Does a fish take a leak
when it's swimming in the creek?
Do they do it in a muddle
when you see them in a puddle?
Does a fish ever miss when it's taking a @! &%
and they find urination
in the farmer's irrigation?
Do you think they're rather fond
of going potty in the pond...
and then, for goodness sake,
do they go while in the lake?
Do they tinkle at all
while in the waterfall?
Could you see a yellow gleam
as they do it in the stream?
Now take a little quiz:
Does a fish ever whiz?
Does a fish go pee
when it's swimming in the sea?
(Written in 1990)
poem by Cathe Ferguson
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A Fish Eye
A fish eye just looks straight
It never shows emotions
It cannot refuse a bait
That may take it to oblivion.
A fish eye can only stare
Taking everything in one look
In innocence it will dare
To try what it's like on a hook.
A fish eye never cries
As the body grows limp in pain
Eventually it will die
And its scales go down the drain.
A fish eye you cannot eat
It seems to be looking at you
Each spoonful of fleshy meat
Seems to ask 'What did you do? '
(Smile - it's just a meal.)
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Tiny Rhyme
Fish oh! fish
swish a miss
wish on hiss
shush to hush
Push push
oh! fish
flush a blush
fresh 'n' mush
Fish oh! fish
slush the gush
slash in gash
splash the plush
Fish oh! fish
pose to posh
rush a mash
fish oh! gosh!
poem by Mubeen Sadhika
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031010 Food Power
i reach the bottom of fish tank
to touch the bottom dweller
stuck to a rock like suction cup
she let me caress her as if she
know me, she's grown a bit
since i bought her at pet shop
this black big head fish i love
she doesn't move that much
i watch her gills close and open
she is always watching me
sometimes i saw her swim
just to get away from other fish
i used to tap the fish tank cover
before feeding them, amazing
every time i tap, they surface
how's that for teaching a fish
food is really powerful thing
just me i can't stop eating
poem by Manonton Dalan
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I Am A Fish!
I dream of sea
deep beautiful blue sea
I am a fish, a colorful fish
that's what I wish
I dream of water
dancing with the waves
to be a colorful fish
that's my wish!
I dream of wind
touching softly the sea
taking me, the colorful fish
deep deep under the sea!
I dream of love
you being a fish like me
that is all what I wish, dear sea
to be a fish, happy and free!
poem by Arta Krasniqi
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