{"id":9231,"date":"2023-03-18T01:00:00","date_gmt":"2023-03-18T05:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.newspaperhistory.com\/?p=9231"},"modified":"2023-03-18T01:00:00","modified_gmt":"2023-03-18T05:00:00","slug":"song-of-the-fisherman","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/song-of-the-fisherman\/","title":{"rendered":"Song of the Fisherman"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

From The Topeka State Journal, March 18, 1915<\/a>. By E. B. Widger.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n\n

There\u2019s a sound that rings in my ears today    And echoes in vague refrain;The ripple of water o\u2019er smooth-washed clayWhere the wall-eyed pike and the black bass play,That makes me yearn in a quiet way    For the old home haunts again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n

    Back to the old home haunts again,        Back where the clear lake lies,    Back through the wood where the blackbirds brood,        Back to my rod and flies.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n

I wish I could paddle my boat today    Through water-logged grass and reedsWhere the muskrat swims and the cattails swayAnd the air is cool and the mist is grayAnd the ripples dance in the same old way    Under the tangled weeds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n

    Back on the old oak log again        Back by the crystal brook,    Back to the bait and the silent wait,        Back to my line and hook.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n

I wish I could wade by the water\u2019s edge    Where the falling leaves drift by,Just to see in the shadow of the ledgeWhere dark forms glide like a woodman\u2019s wedgeThrough drifted piles of dark marsh sedge,    And hear the bittern cry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n

    Back where the tadpoles shift and shirk,        Back where bullfrogs sob,    Back just to float in my leaky boat,        Back to my dripping bob.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n

Oh, it\u2019s just like this on each rainy day;    Always the same old painThat struggles and pulls in the same old wayTo take me off for a little stayBy the water\u2019s edge in the sticky clay,    To the fish in the falling rain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n

    Back to my long, black rubber boots,        Back to my old patched coat,    Back to my rod and breath of God,        Home, and my leaky boat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

From The Topeka State Journal, March 18, 1915. By E. B. Widger. There\u2019s a sound that rings in my ears today    And echoes in vague refrain;The ripple of water o\u2019er smooth-washed clayWhere the wall-eyed pike and the black bass play,That makes me yearn in a quiet way    For the old home haunts again.     Back to the old […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,21],"tags":[99],"class_list":["post-9231","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-newspapers","category-the-topeka-state-journal","tag-e-b-widger"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9231","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=9231"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9231\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=9231"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=9231"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=9231"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}