(Like double poppies whence the wise bee sips Entrancing sweets), and ev'ry other charm That tongue has told, or fancy could describe, In both appeared--yea, which had won the palm In beauty's flower-show (without a bribe) I cannot tell, but let the living form But speak a word, and ev'ry doubt is gone. His niece, he said; his sister's child is she? No wonder then their faces well agree. But still I gave him a reproving look, At which he smiled, while in his arm he took The portrait's twin, and bid me follow where The well-dressed trout for our repast prepare. The meal concluded, out we went With tackle which he kindly lent, And reached a lonely spot, Where, at the swarms of glittering flies, The speckled trout enraptured rise, Like lightning, or a shot; And soon a splendid pair I caught, As fine as I had seen, methought, Though I've tried lots of places. He calls: "What luck, my friend?" says he. "A brace!" "The same have favoured me-- So that's a pair of braces; And if the sun will but lie hid The fleecy, flutt'ring clouds amid, For two short hours more (Unless your arm be wearied out), We'll line the bank with sparkling trout, In number twice a score." I said before, I anxious felt to learn The old man's history, There seemed some mystery; For he from grave to gay, and back, would turn So very fast, That scarcely past The witty jest had flown, before a sigh Burst forth, and buried deep he long would lie In thought; And nought Would rouse him up, till some one near him spoke, And then some anecdote or lively joke Appeared the offspring of his lethargy. In vain the fish, with wistful eye, Might long to seize his tempting fly, For rod and line unheeded lie Quite harmless on the shore.-- At breakfast also, by the bye, The trout got cold, or very nigh, Before he asked if I would try Another mouthful more. I asked his name, and, as I thought, My voice him to remembrance brought; "The Doctor I am called," said he; "Though years have passed since I a fee Have taken for my skill. My name is Hall, so--Doctor Hall Will kill or cure all folks who call, With bleeding, draught, or pill. My niece the nasty stuff prepares, And as she many visits shares, As doctor's boy, she will Oft roam with basket on her arm, From hut to cot, from house to farm, With med'cine all to fill; While many a needy child displays Her needlework, which snugly lays Beneath the physics, while she strays, Unseen her gifts to share. It is not I her fame should blaze, But still my tongue unbid will praise A life she spends in seeking ways To cure all human care." My name then in return I gave, And chanced to say at times My business was for fame and gold To dress my thoughts in rhymes.