Her bedroom’s full of shrubs and oaks;
Amid the prickly undergrowths
She’s cleared a space and made her bed
And sat down in her petticoats.
Her hat, her coat, her gloves, all shed,
Her dress unbuttoned on the bed;
Like russet leaves she’s let them fall,
And stretched, and yawned, and scratched her head.
The dappling sun is hot and tall.
A napping bird gives out a call.
She fluffs her silken underclothes;
She pats her skirts and drapes her shawl.
At last she lifts a slippered toe
And with a tug undoes the bow;
The ribbon’s in a knot, and so
She goes to sleep, and lets it go.