In the Afternoon by James Whitcomb Riley — Read

You in the hammock; and I, near by, / Was trying to read, and to swing you, too; / And the green of the sward was so kind to the eye, / And the shade of the maples so cool and blue, / That often I looked from the book to you / To say as much, with a sigh.

You in the hammock. The book we'd brought / From the parlor -- to read in the open air, -- / Something of love and of Launcelot / And Guinevere, I believe, was there -- / But the afternoon, it was far more fair / Than the poem was, I thought.

You in the hammock; and on and on. / I droned and droned through the rhythmic stuff -- / But, with always a half of my vision gone / Over the top of the page -- enough / To caressingly gaze at you, swathed in the fluff / Of your hair and your odorous "lawn."

You in the hammock -- and that was a year -- / Fully a year ago, I guess -- / And what do we care for their Guinevere / And her Launcelot and their lordliness! -- / You in the hammock still, and -- Yes -- / Kiss me again, my dear!