The porch, its doorway facing westward,

With large windows, is warmed well by the sun.

From here, on all sides, you can look outward

Over woods, water, open fields and the lane.

But when the oaks have covered themselves in green

And the linden’s shadow covers half the flowerbed,

The world, far off, fades to a blue bark, half seen,

Carved by the leaves into dappled shade.

Here, at a little table, the sister and brother

Kneel drawing scenes of the chase, or of battle.

A pink tongue between lips helps along the careful

Great shapes of warships, one of which goes under.