Off to the Fishing Ground

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1. When the Fishing Boats Go Out When the lucent skies of morning flush with dawning rose once more, And waves of golden glory break adown the sunrise shore, And o’er the arch of heaven pied films of vapor float. There’s joyance and there’s freedom when the fishing boats go out. The wind is blowing freshly up from far, uncharted caves, And […]...
2. Fishing On The Susquehanna In July I have never been fishing on the Susquehanna Or on any river for that matter To be perfectly honest. Not in July or any month Have I had the pleasure if it is a pleasure Of fishing on the Susquehanna. I am more likely to be found In a quiet room like this one A […]...
3. When the Dark Comes Down When the dark comes down, oh, the wind is on the sea With lisping laugh and whimper to the red reef’s threnody, The boats are sailing homeward now across the harbor bar With many a jest and many a shout from fishing grounds afar. So furl your sails and take your rest, ye fisher folk […]...
4. The cunnin' little thing When baby wakes of mornings, Then it’s wake, ye people all! For another day Of song and play Has come at our darling’s call! And, till she gets her dinner, She makes the welkin ring, And she won’t keep still till she’s had her fill – The cunnin’ little thing! When baby goes a-walking, Oh, […]...
5. Part 9 of Trout Fishing in America SANDBOX MINUS JOHN DILLINGER EQUALS WHAT? Often I return to the cover of Trout Fishing in America. I Took the baby and went down there this morning. They were Watering the cover with big revolving sprinklers. I saw some Bread lying on the grass. It had been put there to feed the Pigeons. The old […]...
6. Moon Fishing When the moon was full they came to the water. Some with pitchforks, some with rakes, Some with sieves and ladles, And one with a silver cup. And they fished til a traveler passed them and said, “Fools, To catch the moon you must let your women Spread their hair on the water Even the […]...
7. Trout Fishing in America a novel by Richard Brautigan THE COVER FOR TROUT FISHING IN AMERICA The cover for Trout Fishing in America is a photograph taken Late in the afternoon, a photograph of the Benjamin Franklin Statue in San Francisco’s Washington Square. Born 1706 Died 1790, Benjamin Franklin stands on a pedestal that looks like a house containing […]...
8. She dwelleth in the Ground She dwelleth in the Ground Where Daffodils abide Her Maker Her Metropolis The Universe Her Maid To fetch Her Grace and Hue And Fairness and Renown The Firmament’s To Pluck Her And fetch Her Thee be mine...
9. Down Stream Comrades, up! Let us row down stream in this first rare dawnlight, While far in the clear north-west the late moon whitens and wanes; Before us the sun will rise, deep-purpling headland and islet, It is well to meet him thus, with the life astir in our veins! The wakening birds will sing for us […]...
10. Part 4 of Trout Fishing in America THE AUTOPSY OF TROUT FISHING IN AMERICA This is the autopsy of Trout Fishing in America as if Trout Fishing in America had been Lord Byron and had died in Missolonghi, Greece, and afterward never saw the shores Of Idaho again, never saw Carrie Creek, Worsewick Hot Springs, Paradise Creek, Salt Creek and Duck Lake […]...
11. Part 2 of Trout Fishing in America ANOTHER METHOD OF MAKING WALNUT CATSUP And this is a very small cookbook for Trout Fishing in America As if Trout Fishing in America were a rich gourmet and Trout Fishing in America had Maria Callas for a girlfriend And they ate together on a marble table with beautiful candles. Compote of Apples Take a […]...
12. Part 5 of Trout Fishing in America WORSEWICK Worsewick Hot Springs was nothing fancy. Somebody put some Boards across the creek. That was it. The boards dammed up the creek enough to form a huge Bathtub there, and the creek flowed over the top of the boards, Invited like a postcard to the ocean a thousand miles away. As I said Worsewick […]...
13. Dedication For A Plot Of Ground This plot of ground Facing the waters of this inlet Is dedicated to the living presence of Emily Dickinson Wellcome Who was born in England; married; Lost her husband and with Her five year old son Sailed for New York in a two-master; Was driven to the Azores; Ran adrift on Fire Island shoal, Met […]...
14. Off the Ground Three jolly Farmers Once bet a pound Each dance the others would Off the ground. Out of their coats They slipped right soon, And neat and nicesome Put each his shoon. One Two Three! And away they go, Not too fast, And not too slow; Out from the elm-tree’s Noonday shadow, Into the sun And […]...
15. Part 3 of Trout Fishing in America SEA, SEA RIDER The man who owned the bookstore was not magic. He was not a Three-legged crow on the dandelion side of the mountain. He was, of course, a Jew, a retired merchant seaman Who had been torpedoed in the North Atlantic and floated There day after day until death did not want him. […]...
16. About The Sheltered Garden Ground ABOUT the sheltered garden ground The trees stand strangely still. The vale ne’er seemed so deep before, Nor yet so high the hill. An awful sense of quietness, A fulness of repose, Breathes from the dewy garden-lawns, The silent garden rows. As the hoof-beats of a troop of horse Heard far across a plain, A […]...
17. Friend, your white beard sweeps the ground Friend, your white beard sweeps the ground. Why do you stand, expectant? Do you hope to see it In one of your withered days? With your old eyes Do you hope to see The triumphal march of justice? Do not wait, friend! Take your white beard And your old eyes To more tender lands....
18. Part 6 of Trout Fishing in America THE HUNCHBACK TROUT The creek was made narrow by little green trees that grew Too close together. The creek was like 12, 845 telephone Booths in a row with high Victorian ceilings and all the doors Taken off and all the backs of the booths knocked out. Sometimes when I went fishing in there, I […]...
19. Part 8 of Trout Fishing in America A RETURN TO THE COVER OF THIS BOOK Dear Trout Fishing in America: I met your friend Fritz in Washington Square. He told me To tell you that his case went to a jury and that he was acquit- Ted by the jury. He said that it was important for me to say that his […]...
20. Song of the Sea-Wind When the sun sets over the long blue wave I spring from my couch of rest, And I hurtle and boom over leagues of foam That toss in the weltering west, I pipe a hymn to the headlands high, My comrades forevermore, And I chase the tricksy curls of foam O’er the glimmering sandy shore. […]...
21. A Song 1 COME, I will make the continent indissoluble; I will make the most splendid race the sun ever yet shone upon; I will make divine magnetic lands, With the love of comrades, With the life-long love of comrades. 2 I will plant companionship thick as trees along all the rivers of America, and along the […]...
22. Hiawatha's Fishing Forth upon the Gitche Gumee, On the shining Big-Sea-Water, With his fishing-line of cedar, Of the twisted bark of cedar, Forth to catch the sturgeon Nahma, Mishe-Nahma, King of Fishes, In his birch canoe exulting All alone went Hiawatha. Through the clear, transparent water He could see the fishes swimming Far down in the depths […]...
23. Ode To a Chestnut on the Ground From bristly foliage You fell Complete, polished wood, gleaming mahogany, As perfect As a violin newly Born of the treetops, That falling Offers its sealed-in gifts, The hidden sweetness That grew in secret Amid birds and leaves, A model of form, Kin to wood and flour, An oval instrument That holds within it Intact delight, […]...
24. Sonnet 11 Apart sweet women (for whom Heaven be blessed), Comrades, you cannot think how thin and blue Look the leftovers of mankind that rest, Now that the cream has been skimmed off in you. War has its horrors, but has this of good That its sure processes sort out and bind Brave hearts in one intrepid […]...
25. Palanquin Bearers Lightly, O lightly we bear her along, She sways like a flower in the wind of our song; She skims like a bird on the foam of a stream, She floats like a laugh from the lips of a dream. Gaily, O gaily we glide and we sing, We bear her along like a pearl […]...
26. Part 10 of Trout Fishing in America WITNESS FOR TROUT FISHING IN AMERICA PEACE In San Francisco around Easter time last year, they had a Trout fishing in America peace parade. They had thousands Of red stickers printed and they pasted them on their small Foreign cars, and on means of national communication like Telephone poles. The stickers had WITNESS FOR TROUT […]...
27. After the Sea-Ship AFTER the Sea-Ship-after the whistling winds; After the white-gray sails, taut to their spars and ropes, Below, a myriad, myriad waves, hastening, lifting up their necks, Tending in ceaseless flow toward the track of the ship: Waves of the ocean, bubbling and gurgling, blithely prying, Waves, undulating waves-liquid, uneven, emulous waves, Toward that whirling current, […]...
28. Part 7 of Trout Fishing in America THE PUDDING MASTER OF STANLEY BASIN Tree, snow and rock beginnings, the mountain in back of the Lake promised us eternity, but the lake itself was filled with Thousands of silly minnows, swimming close to the shore And busy putting in hours of Mack Sennett time. The minnows were an Idaho tourist attraction. They Should […]...
29. Song in the Songless They have no song, the sedges dry, And still they sing. It is within my breast they sing, As I pass by. Within my breast they touch a string, They wake a sigh. There is but sound of sedges dry; In me they sing....
30. To Althea, From Prison When love with unconfined wings Hovers within my gates, And my divine Althea brings To whisper at the grates; When I lie tangled in her hair, And fettered to her eye, The birds that wanton in the air Know no such liberty. When flowing cups run swiftly round With no allaying Thames, Our careless heads […]...
31. In Port Out of the fires of the sunset come we again to our own­ We have girdled the world in our sailing under many an orient star; Still to our battered canvas the scents of the spice gales cling, And our hearts are swelling within us as we cross the harbor bar. Beyond are the dusky […]...
32. Bilbo's Last Song (At the Grey Havens) Day is ended, dim my eyes, But journey long before me lies. Farewell, friends! I hear the call. The ship’s beside the stony wall. Foam is white and waves are grey; Beyond the sunset leads my way. Foam is salt, the wind is free; I hear the rising of the sea. Farewell, friends! The sails […]...
33. The Voyagers We shall launch our shallop on waters blue from some dim primrose shore, We shall sail with the magic of dusk behind and enchanted coasts before, Over oceans that stretch to the sunset land where lost Atlantis lies, And our pilot shall be the vesper star that shines in the amber skies. The sirens will […]...
34. PEACEFUL GROUND Cool Morning spit on bladed grass. A Thousand silky fingers tickling toes. The strong scent of natures freshly cut hair. Mans spiritual stamping groung toward inner Peace....
35. When Tulips Bloom I When tulips bloom in Union Aquare, And timid breaths of vernal air Go wandering down the dusty town, Like children lost in Vanity Fair; When every long, unlovely row Of westward houses stands aglow, And leads the eyes to sunset skies Beyond the hills where green trees grow; Then wearly seems the street parade, […]...
36. The Indian Burying Ground In spite of all the learn’d have said; I still my old opinion keep, The posture, that we give the dead, Points out the soul’s eternal sleep. Not so the ancients of these lands The Indian, when from life releas’d Again is seated with his friends, And shares gain the joyous feast. His imag’d birds, […]...
37. The Victims Of The Little Box Not even in a dream Should you have anything to do With the little box If you saw her full of stars once You’d wake up Without heart or soul in your chest If you slid your tongue Into her keyhole once You’d wake up with a hole in your forehead If you ground her […]...
38. Ancient Music Winter is icummen in, Lhude sing Goddamm. Raineth drop and staineth slop, And how the wind doth ramm! Sing: Goddamm. Skiddeth bus and sloppeth us, An ague hath my ham. Freezeth river, turneth liver, Damn you, sing: Goddamm. Goddamm, Goddamm, ’tis why I am, Goddamm, So ‘gainst the winter’s balm. Sing goddamm, damm, sing Goddamm. […]...
39. On the Bay When the salt wave laps on the long, dim shore, And frets the reef with its windy sallies, And the dawn’s white light is threading once more The purple firs in the landward valleys, While yet the arms of the wide gray sea Are cradling the sunrise that is to be, The fisherman’s boat, through […]...
40. The Crazy Woman I shall not sing a May song. A May song should be gay. I’ll wait until November And sing a song of gray. I’ll wait until November That is the time for me. I’ll go out in the frosty dark And sing most terribly. And all the little people Will stare at me and say, […]...