A Scrap Of Piscatorial Verse From W.B. Yeats
Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering Trout
And whsipering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that spread their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery hand in hand
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
-- from "Stolen Child"
Now, THAT's what I call great recruiting literature!