text:  From morn till noon his light assiduous toil The angler plied; and when the mid-day sun Was high in heaven under a spreading tree (Methinks I hear the hum amid its leaves!) Upon a couch of wild-flowers down we sat With healthful palates to our slight repast Of biscuits and of cheese and bottled milk; The sward our table and the boughs our roof: And oh! in banquet hall where richest cates Luxurious woo the pamper'd appetite Never did viands proffer such delight To Sybarite upon his silken couch As did to us our simple fair that day