I will look into this matter." So saying, he came softly to the river bank and laying him down upon the grass, peered over the edge and down below.
All was cool and shady beneath the bank.

A stout osier grew, not straight upward, but leaning across the water, shadowing the spot with its soft foliage.

All around grew a mass of feathery ferns such as hide and nestle in cool places, and up to Robin's nostrils came the tender odor of the wild thyme, that loves the moist verges of running streams.
Here, with his broad back against the rugged trunk of the willow tree, and half hidden by the soft ferns around him, sat a stout, brawny fellow, but no other man was there.

His head was as round as a ball, and covered with a mat of close-clipped, curly black hair that grew low down on his forehead.

But his crown was shorn as smooth as the palm of one's hand, which, together with his loose robe, cowl, and string of beads, showed that which his looks never would have done, that he was a friar.
His cheeks were as red and shining as a winter crab, albeit they were nearly covered over with a close curly black beard, as were his chin and upper lip likewise.