Sweet Summer, 1912, John William Waterhouse
When he first saw the maiden there
Then he paused to drink the beauty
Of the maiden pale and fair
As she nursed the summer day
He became entranced
And began to sketch her
Without another glance
Alone she thought shaded
By the rose and cooled by mist
Alone she pondered life's romance
But screamed when she was kissed
Modesty had taken the dare
While he painted unseen
The image forever frozen
Shattered when she screamed
For Magpie Tales
