In a glade where the light dances through, Lives a tale of a group not a few. Sir Raven-Hair with a distant stare, Sits amidst Maidens Fair with golden hair. π²ππ©βπ¦³π©π¦°π§π€πΆ "Maidens three and the dog make four, With tales of yore, who could ask for more? Their friend, a dog with fur so bright, Shares in their joy, a quartet quite right. This rhyme in time, a short sweet play, About this image, where fantasy may stay.