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!