Himself an artist: artist! Ossa piled

Topping Olympus—the absurd which crowns

The extravagant—whereat one laughs, not frowns.

Paints he? One bids the poor pretender take

His sorry self, a trouble and disgrace,

From out the sacred presence, void the place

Artists claim only. What—not merely wake

Our pity that suppressed concupiscence—

A satyr masked as matron—makes pretence

To the coarse blue-fly's instinct—can perceive