[For exchanges, see third page of cover.]
[CONVENTIONAL ART; OR, RAPHAEL JOHN AND THE MOON.]
A sadder moon you never knew.
She was sailing away
(As poets would say)
O'er heaven's deep bay
Of invisible blue:
But of what avail
Was her silvery trail,
When the earth, rolling by
In the distant sky,
Brought a zealous young artist to view.
For Raphael John was learning to draw;
He could "do" very fair
A table or chair,
And he thought he might dare
"Do" the moon; for what flaw
In the world could be found
If he made it look round,
And with nose, mouth, and eyes,
Like the one in the skies,
A likelier moon, why, who ever saw?
But Raphael John was an artist too free
And a boy far too smart
To mistake for true art
What is only a part
Of her sphere; so, thought he,
"Not to make it too real,
I will add my ideal
Of a face. Who need care
If I just—bang her hair?"
But a madder moon you never did see.
