Low hidden in among the forest trees <br />An artist's tilted easel, ankle-deep <br />In tousled ferns and mosses, and in these <br />A fluffy water-spaniel, half asleep <br />Beside a sketch-book and a fallen hat-- <br />A little wicker flask tossed into that. <br /> <br />A sense of utter carelessness and grace <br />Of pure abandon in the slumb'rous scene,-- <br />As if the June, all hoydenish of face, <br />Had romped herself to sleep there on the green, <br />And brink and sagging bridge and sliding stream <br />Were just romantic parcels of her dream.<br /><br />James Whitcomb Riley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-water-color/