The Microscopic Trout and the Machiavelian Fisherman

A fisher was casting his flies in a brook,According to laws of such sciences,With a patented reel and a patented hookAnd a number of other appliances;And the thirty-fifth cast, which he vowed was the last(It was figured as close as a decimal),Brought suddenly out of the water a troutOf measurements infinitesimal.

This fish had a way that would win him a placeIn the best and most polished society,And he looked at the fisherman full in the faceWith a visible air of anxiety:He murmured "Alas!" from his place on the grass,And then, when he'd twisted and wriggled, heRemarked in a pet that his heart was upsetAnd digestion all higgledy-piggledy.

"I request," he observed, "to be instantly flungOnce again in the pool I've been living in."The fisherman said, "You will tire out your tongue.Do you see any signs of my giving in?Put you back in the pool? Why, you fatuous fool,I have eaten much smaller and thinner fish.You're not salmon or sole, but I think, on the whole,You're a fairly respectable dinner-fish."

The fisherman's cook tried her hand on the troutAnd with various herbs she embellished him;He was lovely to see, and there isn't a doubtThat the fisherman's family relished him,And, to prove that they did, both his wife and his kidDevoured the trout with much eagerness,Avowing no dish could compare with that fish,Notwithstanding his singular meagreness.

And the moral, you'll find, is although it is kindTo grant favors that people are wishing for,Still a dinner you'll lack if you chance to throw backIn the pool little trout that you're fishing for;If their pleading you spurn you will certainly learnThat herbs will deliciously vary 'em:It is needless to state that a trout on a plateBeats several in the aquarium.