A River Runs Through It Redux

I forgot to include this Woolybooger in my previous post. This is an old fly fishing lure I have and it's a woolybooger. Made from red hairs underneath a deer tail, my guess is that is resembles a bug of some sort. This girl grew up catching fish at the lake or the ocean. I have never fly fished. It looks like too much work and too cold. I'd rather play around in the water and watch my cork. I do love to fish though. Following is the Wordsworth piece I loved so much from Ode: Intimations on Immortality.

What though the radiance which was once so bright, be taken now forever from our sight.
Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower,
we will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
What having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death and in the years that bring the philosophic mind.
Thanks to the human heart by which we live, thanks to its tenderness, its joy, and fears.
To me the meanest (smallest) flower that blows can give thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.