An old fishing poem used to say:
Count that day lost
Whose low descending sun,
Sees from thy hand
No pleasant fishing done!
alas for the fish.....
Enjoy the Stream, O harmless fish;
And when an angler for his dish,
Through glutton's vile sinne.
Attempts, the wretche, to pull thee out.
God give thee strength, O gentle trout,
To pull the raskall in!
from the Scottish Field, January, 1943
