Excerpt from Word Sketches in Windsor
Last year when balmy spring Was growing into summer, day by day As some fair maid, blooms into womanhood The city’s din and smoke I could endure N 0 longer, and I took my pencils out, Brushes and colours and I journeyed down To sketch at glorious Windsor. There I roamed From Datchet meads, o’er daisy-spangled turf.
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