Alexander Theroux
I see Thoreau out on the Aboljacknagesic waters
catching speckled trout and silvery roaches, glistening like jewels.
The primitive rivers in Maine, rudimentary, blue,
had fish, "bright fluviatile flowers" of spotted hue,
splashing, rushing to his loud joy, leaping out of the spinning pools,
with the sanctity for him of nature's imprimaturs.