Explore "Fishing on Steamboat Wharf" by Edwina Stanton Babcock on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
High all our prisons, / We can no more out; / Words meant to free us, / Compass us about; / And a sigh means a laugh / And a hymn a battle shout.
But here silence mellows / Starved being into life; / With these dreamy fellows -- / Rod, reel and jack-knife -- / Even the caught fish are blithe.