Low hidden in among the forest trees
   An artist's tilted easel, ankle deep
In tousled ferns and mosses, and in these
  A fluffy water-spaniel, half asleep,
Beside a sketchbook and a fallen hat-
  A little wicker flask tossed into that.

A sense of utter carelessness and grace
  Of pure abandon in the slumb'rous scene-
As if the June, all hoydenish of ( Read more... )