MY LANDSCAPE.
Calm sea, the mirror of a cloudless sky,
Blue mountains, in the purple distance fading,
Tall, dark-hued pines, through which faint zephyrs sigh,
A garden shading.
A view that might inspire a poet's voice,
Or minstrel's lute to sweetest music waken—
I came to paint this subject of my choice;
My place was taken!
I muttered angry words between my teeth;
I could not see the features of la bella,
I only saw a dress and cloak beneath
A great umbrella.
Perhaps some girl, her hair a touzled mop,
Plain-featured, round in shoulder, unpoetic,
With hygienic boots that flatly flop—
Old style æsthetic.
I came a little closer, just to see.
Ye gods, her looks and form were not alarming!
A graceful, sweet-faced, dainty maiden she,
Completely charming.
The landscape that I loved was what she drew.
I felt my coolness towards her quickly thawing;
I also stayed to sketch that charming view—
Here is my drawing.
