It's a fair drop below and the water is slow
where Lakenham bridges pass over the streams
of the Yare and the Tas; where a fisherboy dreams
of the great fish that go in the deep, lazy flow.
The bricks are hard blue for the railway runs through
so they lie fair and square in a permanent mortar.
There is hope in the air and a float on the water.
Nice poem about fishing. I haven't done it in a while. Must try it again. TFS
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Such a charming piece of poetry! Well done! !