Green broccoli hills,
Swaying daffodils.
A tall tree of oak,
Hedged by hawthore just like a cloak.
The sparkling canal with a colourful barge,
How do you steer something so long and so large.
There's a wispy smoke trail, floating away in the sky,
With a million leaves gently blowing by.
The afternoon goes to evening, and the light begins to wane,
Then tomorrow...
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