Imagery and Influence of the Setting: Lake

She was no more a woman than the buds on her head were daisies. Only a girl, laughing at the shuddering leaves and singing with the chorus of birds, tenderly collecting the weeds and carelessly romping through the marigolds. A tired glow of no particular shape shone as a mass of sleepy light, the sun on her cheeks that brightened her eyes and blurred her lips. The toes that skipped through the tall, wind-blown grass, feet that bathed in mud and clothed with the twigs. Such knobbly knees, grazing past the trees which drank from a pool of light; such hands that breathed free among lost feathers and dandelions, dancing through the air with all the grace and beauty of the rippling brook. Water which flowed as smooth as her hair, tumbling down her back, trees that reached with longing to grasp the goddess below, but the kingdom above. The merriment that reflects in her eyes, that slides in her sockets, that slips off her lashes knows nothing of the two-sided trees that are ruined by waves of sickness and death: The glistening perspiration of hope on her brow cannot imagine the claws from the weeds that will revolt from the flowers, ripping the petals and leaving their purity to bleed slowly from their white stems. She knows nothing, for her world of laughter exists in her mind.