I want to drag it out of you -
but only what you choose to give.
Which limits me in crank and pull, but
O! Resplendent, iridescent fish!
Well-worth the pull that I don't do,
to land such monsters of the deep
as swim in you with eyes alight,
'til not a secret left to keep.
You'd like to drag me out of it. But
just so far as I shall leap. The boat
is lure enough, you nod approvingly.
Such fish as weep unhooked, uncaught
upon your uncast line, they have as much
of time as seas can hold. You'll wait for those
who, bored of life, perhaps have
grown too bold.
To say we drag, or pull at all
is pure hyperbole. We measure time
by pondside cues, so passive and intent
are we. There's never been a rush at all,
and more's the pity if there was. For greater
still, do fishies huge swim strange in us.
And what if we had filled one net,
in one huge drag and sweep, to catch
up every one, and leave no spawn?
For no because more just than
just because, we'd find
our fish are gone
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