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ArtistAll the girls are out with their baskets for the primrose; Up lanes, woods through, they troop in joyful bands. My sweet leads: she knows not why, but now she totters, Eyes the bent anemones, and hangs her hands.
Three young girls in traditional dress walk along a flower-laden path through a serene forest, each carrying a basket. Sunlight filters through the trees, creating a warm, inviting atmosphere.