Here you will find the Poem A Water-Color of poet James Whitcomb Riley
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 sketch-book 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 face, Had romped herself to sleep there on the green, And brink and sagging bridge and sliding stream Were just romantic parcels of her dream.
