Whilst Lucius limn’d with loving skill
Her likeness, as a Shepherdess.
Yet tho’ he strove with loving skill
His Brush refused to work his Will.
“Dear Maid, unless you close your Eyes
I can not paint to-day,” he said;
“Their Brightness shames the very Skies
And turns their Turquoise into Lead.”
Quoth Phyllis, then, “To save the Skies